Roll With It
by Nichneven
Summary: COMPLETE! Draco and Neville find their lives entwined during their Seventh Year. Friendships & House loyalty are tested. A coming of age tale in which the characters discover how different and how similar they actually are. Growing up is not always pretty
1. Prelude: A Night to Remember

**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Author Notes:** **This story contains both SLASH and blatant drug use.** If these themes offend you, please do not read this story!

The characters in this story may seem a little out of character, but give it a chance. Consider this story a "coming of age" tale about the characters developing into adults. I anticipate many flames telling me off for my OOC-ness. So be it.

**This story is COMPLETE. I will post new chapters weekly.**

****

Prelude: A Night to Remember

On the night of the Yule Ball, Neville Longbottom was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at his hands. It was his last Ball at Hogwarts and he wanted it to be special. He had a date-- if you could count Ginny Weasley as such. And he couldn't, as she was his best friend. Ginny and he had attended each Yule Ball together since Neville's fourth year. It was an assumed tradition now. Of course, this year he would be sharing Ginny's attention with her boyfriend Harry Potter. Neville was, officially, the "Third Wheel". That was his role in life. He was doomed to be second string, second rate and an expendable part to an essential whole.  
  
Neville sighed. He did not want it to be that way. He wanted to be remembered as something other than the clumsy, forgetful idiot who faded into the shadows.  
  
And so, Neville had devised a Plan. Neville reached out. He asked around. He made an unlikely contact. And finally, just minutes ago, he had scored.  
  
Neville looked down at his clenched fist and opened it slowly. In the palm of his hand was a small white tablet. In the middle of the pill was a tiny, impressed Snitch. He wanted just one night of freedom from his nerves and reputation. He wanted to feel free. And in his hand, he held the key to that freedom. The Muggle drug Ecstasy.  
  
All he had to do now was swallow. Neville licked his lips nervously. Could he not even get high? Was he too scared to _swallow_?  
  
The sound of an approaching group of people made the dark haired boy jump to his feet and shove the pill into the pocket of his dress robes.  
  
"Hey, Nev," Harry called as he led Ron, Hermione and Ginny into the Seventh Year Boys' Dormitory. "You're looking sharp!"  
  
"Ooh," Hermione smiled at Neville warmly, surveying his dark green velvet robes. "That is a fantastic color on you! Much better than the aqua ones you wore last year."  
  
"That's what I told him," Ginny smiled and went to brush the wrinkles out of Neville's robe. "It makes his eyes stand out."  
  
"Give over," Neville brushed off Ginny's busy hands and walked to the door. "Shouldn't we get going?"  
  
Harry moved to take Ginny's hands in his. He let his eyes rove over his girlfriend's entire form before smiling at her. "You are breathtaking, Gin."  
  
Neville rolled his eyes. Ron cleared his voice and called to Hermione.  
  
_Another sodding couple_.  
  
Neville turned and left the room, leaving the happy couples to giggle amongst themselves. He ran his fingers through his dark brown hair as he descended the stone staircase into the Gryffindor Common Room.  
  
"I can do this," Neville muttered to himself. He retrieved the White Snitch from his pocket and popped it into his mouth. He swiped a glass of water from a study table nearby and swallowed the drug before he could reconsider. Smiling, he turned to the stairs. "Oi! Come on, you guys!"


	2. Dancing With the Enemy

**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Author Notes:** **This story contains both SLASH and blatant drug use.** If these themes offend you, please do not read this story!

The characters in this story may seem a little out of character, but give it a chance. Consider this story a "coming of age" tale about the characters developing into adults. I anticipate many flames telling me off for my OOC-ness. So be it.

**This story is COMPLETE. I will post new chapters weekly.  
**  
Chapter One: Dancing with the Enemy  
  
_I think my body  
is as restless as my mind  
and I don't know if I can roll with it  
this time......_   
"Roll With It" by Ani DiFranco

Neville stood next to the punch table, watching his quartet of friends share a dance. The worst thing about being a Third Wheel was the appalling lack of dance partners. All of the girls in attendance were paired with boys of their own.  
  
Glancing around the room, Neville saw that there were only a select handful of students not dancing: Colin Creevy, Crabbe and Goyle, Millicent Bulstrode and, surprisingly, Draco Malfoy.  
  
Neville's head was beginning to lighten and he suddenly found the candles hovering overhead extremely fascinating. The Ecstasy was finding its mark. He stared at the candles for minutes on end. The colors were riveting! The flicker of the flame was spellbinding. _How is it possible that I never noticed how absolutely beautiful fire is? Wow._ What he wouldn't give to touch one of those flames. To catch it and hold it in his palm.  
  
"I wouldn't do that, if I were you," a sardonic voice penetrated Neville's foggy senses. "Fire tends to burn, you know."  
  
Neville laughed and lowered his hands. He knew that voice: Draco Malfoy. "How positively horrid of it."  
  
"I'm assuming since you are trying to embrace the flames," Draco moved a little closer to the rolling Gryffindor. "That you found the nerve to take the Snitch."  
  
Neville thought he ought to defend his nerve, but the impulse was fleeting as new sensations continued to bombard him. "I took it about 30 minutes ago."  
  
"Excellent," Draco consulted the watch hanging from his waistband. "I took mine about the same time."  
  
"You took one?" Neville gaped incredulously at Draco. "How... I mean, I really thought you were above all this."  
  
Draco laughed and clapped Neville on the back. "I am never above a spot of fun, Longbottom."  
  
Neville found himself pressing against Draco's hand, his nerves racing beneath his skin, relishing in the feel of it. "What should we do, then?"  
  
Draco ran his hand down Neville's back, marveling at the softness. He always knew that Neville was not the most svelte boy in Hogwarts, but he was surprised—pleasantly so. Draco's fingers snaked over Neville's shoulder and down his arm. He liked the not-so-perfect feel of him.  
  
Draco was intrigued.  
  
"First thing's first," Draco grabbed Neville's wrist and tugged sharply. "We must dance."  
  
"Together?" Neville mused aloud. Draco merely laughed, leading the other boy to the middle of the Great Hall.  
  
And so it came to pass that Neville Longbottom and Draco Malfoy joined the dancing throng on the floor. Curious eyes watched as Neville danced with abandon. Neville had never been a great dancer... hell; he was not even a passable dancer! But there he was, throwing himself into the music as if he had been born to do so!  
  
Across the floor, Ginny caught a glimpse of her best friend frenetically jumping up and down in time to the music. Thinking it was the worst dancing she'd ever seen, Ginny made a mental note to discuss the Ins and Outs of socially acceptable dance movements with Neville later. Curious to see who would be complaining loudly about his performance the next day, she shifted her position in order to see Neville's partner. She immediately stopped dancing and grabbed Harry by the arms.  
  
"Harry!" Ginny forcefully turned Harry around and pointed toward the unlikely dance partners. "Look at that!"  
  
Harry scanned the room until his eyes fell on Neville. His lips curved into an amused, patronizing smile, but he was quickly distracted by the pale figure who was dancing in the same bizarre fashion—jumping up and down in place. "Bloody hell!"  
  
Draco and Neville were the exact same height, although Draco never noticed before. He wrapped his arms around the other boy's waist and leaned toward Neville to whisper, "We have an audience, Longbottom. It seems that those bloody Gryffindors of yours find our association a bit odd."  
  
"Yes," Neville lolled his head, trying to get closer to Draco's skin. His body was boiling hot and Draco's skin was like a refreshing splash of ice water. "I imagine this does look odd. But... god... I don't care. Just touch me again!"  
  
Draco threw his head back and laughed out loud at the request. In doing so, Draco's hips thrust against Neville's, making both boys gasp in delight. Draco knew the E was at work. That was the thing with E. Touching, kissing, tasting, hearing, seeing... everything was so much MORE with Ecstasy. No inhibitions could combat the effects of Ecstasy. There was no point fighting.  
  
Neville gripped Draco's waist and drew him closer. He stared at the Slytherin, wondering when, exactly, Draco's eyes had gotten so... shiny. In the recesses of his mind, Neville knew that these thoughts were being conjured by the drug, but at the moment, he could not possibly care less. He lifted both his hands and buried them in Draco's hair and pulled his face down to his own.  
  
Draco did not resist. He pressed his lips into Neville's and wondered at the feel of them against his own. The room tilted wildly and the music pounded inexorably in his ears, but all he could feel was Neville's lips on his. _This is the best feeling in the world.  
_  
Neville's own thoughts were pinging around in his mind. He had never realized just how silky soft Draco's hair was. He had never noticed the heady scent of jasmine that was Draco. He had never known that a kiss could suffocate you in a way that made you ache for more. Neville opened his mouth to breathe and found Draco's tongue sliding in between his lips. _I have died and this is heaven._  
  
"Bloody hell," Harry exclaimed again, watching as Neville snaked his own tongue into his nemesis' mouth. "I am so disturbed that I cannot think."  
  
"Oh!" Ginny gasped, pushing her way past Harry. She had to get to Neville. This was obviously the work of Dark Magic. "Neville!"  
  
Neville heard his best friend's voice, but he wanted her to go away. He wanted to fall into Malfoy's mouth and drown. But suddenly, Malfoy was gone from him, leaving him bereft. Ginny had yanked the blond out of Neville's arms and was viciously yelling at him about casting a spell or some such thing.  
  
"Oh, Ginny," Neville slinked over to Ginny and leaned heavily against her. "Leave Malfoy alone. We were just dancing."  
  
"Dancing my left foot!" Ginny squealed, making Draco and Neville fall into peels of drug-induced giggles. "You were—"  
  
"Be a lamb, Gin," Neville reached out and shoved Ginny's shoulder gently. "And bugger off. Go on."  
  
Ginny's mouth fell open as she watched Neville grab Draco's hand and lead him away.  
  
"That," Ron's voice came from behind his sister. "Is easily the weirdest thing I've ever seen within these walls. And mind you, I've seen a lot of weird stuff here!"  
  
"What are they doing now?" Ginny asked, a faint laugh in her voice. "What are those?"  
  
The foursome stood and watched as Draco spun lit up sticks in front of Neville's face. Neville's eyebrows were raised and his face registered amazement.  
  
"Those are light sticks," Hermione explained knowledgably. "I've seen them in the Muggle stores."  
  
Hermione knew that light sticks were commonly used in the Muggle drug community. She had read a disturbing yet fascinating article on the rampant use of Ecstasy by England's teens. Hordes of teenagers taking a synthetic drug that skewed reality and slowly boiled the brain in extreme heat. Hermione was positive that Neville, who did not have any ties to the Muggle world, had not gotten his hands on the drug. After all, it was purely a Muggle phenomenon.  
  
"It looks like Neville is in a trance," Hermione mused. "Perhaps we should we tell a professor?"  
  
Harry, for once, agreed with Hermione and started walking toward the staff table. He intended to get Professor McGonagall. Maybe this time that insufferable git will get his just reward!  
  
"Not so fast," Blaise Zabini stepped in front of Harry, pressing his finger into his chest.  
  
"What is your problem?" Harry pushed Blaise away roughly, itching to pull his wand.  
  
"I see that you are barreling toward the staff table at top speed," Blaise lifted a finger and touched the tip of Harry's nose, causing him to jerk his head back. "Presumably to accuse Draco of poisoning your dear Longbottom. Am I right so far?"  
  
Harry's eyes flashed angrily. "Malfoy has obviously hexed him."  
  
"Look," Blaise regarded Harry seriously. "If you go to the professors, you will get Draco in trouble—"  
  
"And therein lies the beauty of the plan," Harry interrupted, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
"—but you'll also get Longbottom into the same trouble," Blaise finished, looking smug.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Blaise leaned slightly to the side, watching Draco gulp down a huge goblet of water. "Don't you see that Draco is acting odd?"  
  
"Yes," Harry agreed. "But Malfoy is always odd."  
  
"Granted," Blaise inclined his head regally, in true Slytherin fashion. "But even at his oddest, have you ever seen him be decent to Longbottom?"  
  
"No," Harry narrowed his eyes. "Why don't you just spit it out, Zabini? What are you trying to tell me?"  
  
"That Draco and Longbottom are rolling," Blaise told him with a shrug. "They are both on E."  
  
"Rolling?" Harry blinked. He had not heard that expression in over six years! Vague flashes of his 'Just Say No to Drugs' course from his grammar school flashed before his eyes. "E? What is _E_?"  
  
"Ecstasy," Blaise supplied. "It is the Muggle drug that Draco favors."  
  
"Figures that a Muggle hater would love a Muggle drug," Harry muttered. He turned to look at Neville and Draco, who were once again grinding into one another. Draco was still holding his light sticks. He shuddered in disgust.  
  
"Technicality," Blaise waved his hand as if dismissing the very idea that Draco would approve of anything Muggle in nature. "Muggle Ecstasy has been enhanced by wizards. And the Malfoy family is the biggest distributor in England."  
  
"Fascinating, really," Harry turned back to Blaise. "But why would I believe that Neville took that stuff on his own free will?"  
  
"Oh, you don't have to believe me," Blaise laughed. "I just thought it would be fun to watch your little Gryffindor mind try to sort it all out. Send an enemy and a friend to slaughter? Or save them both? Oh! To Do?"  
  
With a final wave of his hand, Blaise returned to his group of overly preened Slytherins, leaving Harry to debate his next move. _Damn Slytherins.  
_  
He would never get Neville in trouble on purpose. Harry could just imagine the reaction of Neville's Gran if he was caught experimenting with Muggle drugs. No way. He would not chance it. Harry turned back to his friends and shook his head. He would have to explain this new turn of events to them. He only hoped that Neville knew what he was doing.

* * *

"Here," Draco shoved a cup into Neville's hands. "Drink this."  
  
"What is it?" Neville asked, even as he raised the cup to his lips.  
  
"Just water," Draco told him as he gulped. "It is most important that we stay hydrated."  
  
In his haste to drink, water dribbled out his mouth and slid down his neck. The water was cold and the contact with his skin was pleasurable. He shivered and took the glass from his lips. "I want to go swimming!"  
  
"That could be dangerous," Draco purred as his fingers reached out to follow the dribbled water from Neville's lips, down his neck and beneath the collar of his robes.  
  
"Dangerous?" Neville was hardly concerned. His skin zinged from Draco's touch.  
  
"If we leave this room," Draco's voice was breathy and bated. "We will end up shagging."  
  
"Then, let's go," Neville grabbed Draco's wrist and tugged him toward the door. "Now."  
  
Draco laughed and allowed the Gryffindor to lead him from the Great Hall. He never would have taken Neville for such an easy score. Queer? Oh, absolutely, but not "easy". Draco thought he would have had to work just a smidge to get him into bed. He did not expect to be hauled off in front of the entire Hogwarts' population at the mere mention of a tumble in the hay! Of course, the Ecstasy was the only thing making this possible. He just knew that if Neville were sober, there would be no chance of him going off alone with Draco Malfoy for a shag.  
  
"In here, Longbottom," Draco opened the door to the Prefect's bathroom and gestured for Neville to enter. "This tub is big enough for a swim."  
  
Before the door closed all the way, Neville lunged at Draco, knocking the pale boy to the tiled floor. His mouth descended on Draco's as his hands clawed at the fine black robes denying him access to Draco's skin.  
  
Draco quickly recovered from the shock of Neville's attack and began ripping at the fabric of Neville's robes. The only thought in his drugged mind was _Longbottom. Naked. Longbottom. Naked.  
_  
Neville yanked Draco's robes down, trapping the other boy's arms to his side. The sight of Draco's bare chest made Neville groan loudly. How was it possible that such a small expanse of skin could make him so entirely hot? He bent and captured one of Draco's impossibly pink nipples in between his teeth and tugged gently. Draco gasped and struggled to free his arms from his robe sleeves.  
  
_Longbottom. Naked.  
_  
The world spun wildly around Neville. He felt each of Draco's touches as if his fingers were electrically charged. Each moan emitting from Draco sounded like a symphony deranged angels. These feelings were overwhelming. He never wanted them to stop.  
  
Spots of light tingled the backs of Draco's eyes. He had never experienced a roll quite like this one. The Snitch was the newest breed of the Malfoy Quality E and it was his first time taking it. He had never felt this undeniable urge to fuck before. Sure, the urge had been there in the past, and yes, he had acted on it—several times over. Hell, he wasn't called the Mattress King for nothing! But the other incarnations of the drug had never driven him to the brink of – well... _ecstasy_ before.  
  
Draco pushed against Neville roughly. He was suffocating. He had to get out from under the heavier boy. Neville's eyes were unfocused and glassy as he regarded Draco in confusion.  
  
"Oh, I'm not done with you," Draco rasped, sitting up on his knees, eyeing Neville as if he were a Christmas turkey. Neville's eyes widened as he watched Draco's trembling hands unfasten his dress robes. "I just—air—needed air."  
  
"What?" Neville's ears were filled with roaring white noise. He could see Draco's mouth moving, but could not make out the words he was saying. No matter.

"Hurry up."

* * *

"You cannot believe that garbage," Ginny's perky nose crinkled in dismay as she listened to her boyfriend explain what Blaise had told him. "I mean, Blaise _is_ a Slytherin."  
  
"Right," Ron chimed in, as Harry assumed he would. "Slytherin equals Liar. No two ways about it."  
  
Harry bit is lower lip. "But don't you think that it is possible? I mean, Nev seems like the type who would rebel."  
  
"He does?" Ginny's nose crinkled further up her face.  
  
"Harry's right," Hermione told the group sagely. "I remember the Drug Counselors at my old Muggle school telling us that sometimes the weakest is the easiest target for dealers. You know, that one person who may not have friends or who—"  
  
"Neville _has_ friends," Ron argued.  
  
"Are we really his friends, though?" Hermione asked seriously. "I mean, besides Ginny? He is never really in the thick of things with us, is he?"  
  
The group collectively shuffled their feet in a Very Guilty Manner. They never really thought about Neville when he was not in their direct line of sight. And when he was there, they often plotted to get him to leave. Did any of them even really know him? What was his Gran's name? What village had he grown up in? What was his favorite book? It was a sad fact that none of them could answer those questions.  
  
"Okay," Harry broke the tense silence. "Any idea where they might've been heading?"

* * *

Draco pulled his mouth away from Neville's and covered it instead with his hand, whispering for him to be quiet. Neville's eyes searched Draco's face as the blonde tilted his head to the side, listening intently. From beyond the door there was much clomping of feet and chattering. One voice stood out from the cacophony: _Harry Fucking Potter_. Of course.  
  
"Looks like your little friends are out to find you," Draco whispered against Neville's cheek. "Whatever are we going to do?"  
  
Neville made a series of gestures indicating his apparent lack of caring. His lips opened beneath Draco's palm, his tongue drawing one of the long slender digits into his mouth. A roguish grin crossed Draco's features as he allowed Neville to nurse on his fingers.  
  
The two boys reclined on a cushion of bath towels in nothing but trousers, hastily donned at the end of their _swim cum sex romp_ in the tub. Neville's dark hair was still dripping wet and Draco's silvery hair was curling at the ends.  
  
"Don't you care that your _friends_," Draco spat out 'friends' as if it were a bug on his tongue. "Are about to discover you with me, naked?"  
  
"I'm sure that my '_friends_' would be only too happy to find me in your arms," Neville said after letting Draco's fingers slip from his mouth. "Especially naked."  
  
Draco did not miss the sarcastic inflection on the word friend. It nearly mirrored his own take on the noun just seconds before. His eyebrows came together in genuine shock.  
  
"Why, Longbottom!" Draco mocked lightly. "Are you suggesting that the brat pack are anything less than perfect?"  
  
"I'm not sure you could actually get farther from 'perfect' if you caught a train to Timbuktu," Neville said bitterly, his eyes flashing with what Draco could have sworn was venom. Surely he was mistaken. "I don't know why everyone is so keen on believing they are the only ones who matter around here."  
  
Draco let the insinuation that _he_ did not matter slide by without comment, as he was too busy reeling from shock. He never would have guessed that the quiet Gryffindor before him was possible of such strong, and seemingly angry, emotions. Draco admonished himself to never assume. Trouble was bred from assumptions.  
  
"So," Draco assumed the detached nonchalance for which he was famous. "Why do you stick around and let them have all the glory, then?"  
  
"What else can I do?" Neville lie back onto the bathroom floor and spread his arms out and over his head repeatedly, as if making a snow angel. "The Ravenclaws think I'm stupid. The Slytherins think I'm too—actually, I'm not sure why the Slytherins hate me. And the Hufflepuffs hate that I am better at Herbology than the whole lot of them! It is supposed to be their specialty, you know."  
  
"What?" Draco was once again amazed. Was it the White Snitch running rampant through his body, or was it that Neville Longbottom was actually rendering him near speechlessness? The wheels in Draco's head spun rapidly as he tried to digest this new information. "So, you were the Top Herbology Student last year? The one who preferred to remain unnamed?"  
  
"Actually," Neville corrected him casually, the E rendering him incapable of speaking anything but the truth. "I've technically been Top Student for the past six years. But they only give the award to Sixth and Seventh years."  
  
"But why hide it?"  
  
Neville looked at Draco in confusion. "Does it matter?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"In that case," the dark featured boy shrugged. "I did not want Hermione to go tits-up about it. You know her—she has to be the best at everything. She got all the other awards except—"  
  
Draco smirked complacently. "She did not get the Potions award."  
  
"Right. Because you got that one," Neville supplied quickly. "Isn't it funny that the only two students to beat her last year were you and I?"  
  
"That is actually quite hysterical. Her worst enemy and you!"  
  
"Isn't it?" Neville sat up abruptly, the Ecstasy-imposed honesty bubbling forth. "I wanted to owl you so that we could have a good laugh about it."  
  
Draco was officially blown away. Never in all his time at Hogwarts had he heard anything more astonishing than this most unGryffindor-like sentiment! In fact, Draco was quite sure that he had horribly underestimated Neville Longbottom.  
  
Neville was getting tired of being still. The White Snitch still had him in its clutches. He wanted to move; he needed to move. He jumped to his feet and began pacing the room, stopping every so often to examine the decorations on the walls.  
  
"You know, Malfoy," Neville turned to look at the Slytherin, who was still lounging against their mattress of towels. "I always wondered why you and I never got on better."  
  
"Longbottom," Draco said in a tone of a chastising parent. "We just spent the better part of two hours fucking like rabbits. How much better could it be?"  
  
Neville waved away Draco's reference to their sexual encounter. "You know what I mean."  
  
"I daresay," Draco sounded amused. "That it is the age old Gryffindor vs. Slytherin rivalry."  
  
"That's ridiculous," Neville chided, his feet shuffling not from nerves but from the overwhelming urge to do so. "We are both from old, pureblood families. There are not many of us left."  
  
Draco blinked twice in rapid succession.  
  
"Shame that."  
  
"Longbottom," Draco got to his feet and approached the other boy. "Are you about to rail against Muggles and Mudbloods and announce your undying devotion to the Dark Lord?"  
  
"Have you gone around the bend?" Neville laughed and shot Draco a pointed glance. "We are, in fact, different in that regard."  
  
"Well, thank the stars," Draco chuckled and grabbed at his chest dramatically. "I would have suffered an immediate heart stoppage."  
  
Neville smiled as he reached out for Draco. "Are we done talking now?"  
  
"For now," Draco nodded before leaning in to devour Neville's mouth once again.

* * *

"We've checked every corridor," Ron leaned against a closed door and crossed his arms resolutely. "I do not know why we are even continuing on this mad chase."  
  
"Okay, fine," Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his dark hair. "Let's head back to the Ball. We might make it back in time for one last dance." "Wait," Ginny pushed her brother aside and pressed her ear to the wooden door. "Do you hear that?"  
  
The foursome fell silent, all eight ears straining to hear whatever noise Ginny had already heard. Just as they were starting to shuffle impatiently, a cry rang out through the silence like the bells of La Notre Dame breaking through the dawn in Paris.  
  
"This is the prefect's toilet," Hermione pulled Ginny away from the door and reached for her wand. "Stand back."  
  
Hermione spoke her overriding Head Girl password causing the door to swing open soundlessly. The Gryffindors rushed in behind Hermione but quickly stopped short. There, on the floor before them, laid a half-clothed Draco Malfoy and Neville Longbottom. Draco was on his back with Neville straddling his hips. Draco's hands cupped the other boy's backside while Neville kissed him deeply.  
  
The girls squealed in surprise. The boys cried out in apparent disgust. There was no mistaking that their friend wanted to be in his current position. Neville lifted his head and turned at the sound of the disturbance and swore aloud. Draco, for his part, continued to massage Neville's arse, smirking up at the intruders.  
  
"Can we help you?" Draco inquired with sugary sweet helpfulness.  
  
"Neville!" Hermione hurried forward to touch her housemate's forehead as if feeling for a temperature. "Are you okay? You're burning up!"  
  
"Of course I'm all right," Neville jerked back from her touch as if her hand was on fire. "Why shouldn't I be?"  
  
"Well," Ron piped up, his voice quaking with disapproval. "You are nearly starkers, for one, and perhaps more importantly, you are snogging _Malfoy_."  
  
"Good thing you did not pop in an hour ago," Neville told him with an uncharacteristic grin. "That 'nearly' of yours would not have been applicable."  
  
"Were we snogging an hour ago?" Malfoy asked Neville conversationally.  
  
"Oh, no," Neville turned to face Draco, his hands playing on the Slyhterin's chest. "An hour ago we were shagging."  
  
The sound of Hermione's wand clattering to the floor echoed through the room.  
  
"That is just—" Harry looked nearly as green as his infamous eyes.  
  
"Gross," Ginny finished for him with a shiver.  
  
"Come off it, Gin," Neville said with a hint of viciousness. "You told me not four days ago how much you wanted Malfoy to pin you against a wall and fuck you."  
  
Ginny's hand flew to her mouth, gasping audibly. Harry's eyes narrowed on his girlfriend.  
  
"Look," Draco lifted Neville off of himself and got to his feet. All eyes were riveted on his perfect form. "Could you lot continue your little Gryffindor version of _As the Cauldron Bubbles_ elsewhere?"  
  
"Fine," Hermione said stiffly, reaching down to retrieve her wand. "Come on, Neville."  
  
"No."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"I said _no_," Neville was on his feet, advancing on Hermione until he stood chest to chest with her. "You cannot order me around."  
  
"It wasn't an order," Hermione put her hands on Neville's chest and pushed him away from her. "I was just—"  
  
"It sounded like an order to me," Draco advised Neville helpfully.  
  
Neville once again stepped toward the small brunette before him. His voice was low and almost menacing. "Me too."  
  
"All right," Ron pulled Hermione away from the suddenly combative Neville and pushed her behind him. "That's enough Neville. You don't want to come with us? Fine. But don't you ever touch Hermione. Ever."  
  
"No worries _there_," Neville bit out, his mouth twisting with revulsion. Draco stifled the urge to laugh at the rejoinder.  
  
"Come on," Harry took Ginny's arm and turned her to the door. "Let's get out of here. He deserves whatever happens to him."  
  
Despite himself, Neville flinched at that proclamation. Ginny, picking up on the subtle movement, pulled away from Harry and warily approached her friend.  
  
Neville stared down at her, his face impassive. She concentrated on pouring every bit of love she felt for her best friend into her light eyes, hoping to break through the spell of the drug. Finally, she reached up and put her arms around his shoulders, her head resting against his bare chest.  
  
Neville hesitated briefly before embracing her tightly. As his hands stroked her ginger hair, he whispered in her ear. "I'm fine. I want this. Just go."  
  
"Okay," Ginny nodded and squeezed him once more before slipping from his arms. She turned and went to Harry. "Let's go." 

**_To be continued!_**


	3. Shades of Grey

**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Author Notes:** **This story contains both SLASH and blatant drug use.** If these themes offend you, please do not read this story!

The characters in this story may seem a little out of character, but give it a chance. Consider this story a "coming of age" tale about the characters developing into adults. I anticipate many flames telling me off for my OOC-ness. So be it.

**This story is COMPLETE. I will post new chapters weekly.**

* * *

****

Chapter Two: Shades of Grey

_What makes me think I could start clean slated  
The hardest to learn was the least complicated  
So what makes me think I could start clean slated  
The hardest to learn was the least complicated_

_-- _Least Complicated by Indigo Girls

.

The sun shone through the Gryffindor Seventh Year Boys' Dormitory, landing directly on the face of the sleeping Neville Longbottom. The sun, however, was unsuccessful in its attempt to rouse the boy. The temptation of 'day' did nothing to stir him as he slumbered in dreamless sleep.  
  
No one could remember exactly when Neville had returned to the Tower. Everyone had already retired, exhausted by the hours of dancing and excitement of the Ball. In fact, it had come as quite a shock to both Harry and Ron to see Neville in Gryffindor Tower at all.  
  
He was clad in his trousers from the previous night's escapades, but no shoes and no shirt. His dress robes and wand were nowhere to be found, which triggered an instant wave of concern. The quartet was mortified to think that Neville's wand could be in the possession of one silver haired git extraordinaire, and so Hermione was dispatched to the prefect's washroom in hopes of finding the missing items.  
  
Ginny sat by Neville's bed with a pitcher of water and a glass. She had been fairly surprised at breakfast that morning when a sleek eagle owl had swooped down in front of her and stuck out its leg for her to retrieve a rolled piece of parchment, sealed in green wax.  
  
_Make sure he drinks plenty of water. Remember: water before sleep. -- DMalfoy_

__  
Ginny had scanned the Great Hall only to discover that Draco was nowhere in sight. _He must be sleeping it off as well._ Taking one last bite of her toast, Ginny had stood, told her friends she would see them in the Tower later and before questions could be asked, fled from the room.  
  
Now the petite Gryffindor leaned over and shook her best friend gently, calling his name. He groaned and rolled away from her. But Ginny was not a girl to give up so easily. She rounded the bed and tried again, only this time neither her shake nor her voice was gentle.  
  
Neville's eyes slit open gingerly. "Gin?"  
  
"Sit up," Ginny told him in her best Mrs. Weasley's I Mean It Now, Mister! voice. "Drink this."  
  
Neville, recognized a voice of authority despite his grogginess and pushed himself up, his head spinning with exhaustion. Only when the cool water touched his lips did he realize how incredibly thirsty he was. He gulped greedily at the water, a small amount splashing onto his chest as he did so.  
  
"Neville," Ginny began when he handed the empty glass back to her. "I was so worried about you last night."  
  
"What for?" Neville fell back onto the bed, motioning for Ginny to lie down beside him. She set the glass down on the nightstand and crawled into the bed as she had done perhaps two hundred times before. "I'm just a bit knackered."  
  
"Knackered?" Ginny settled her head on Neville's shoulder and regarded him closely. "Nev, don't you remember last night?"  
  
"Last night?" Neville's dark eyebrows knitted together in momentary confusion. "What happened las—"  
  
Neville cut off abruptly, his eyes growing wider as the night's events seeped into his memory. The Ecstasy. The dancing. The tub. The fight with Hermione and Ron. And with great stinging slap of clarity: Malfoy.  
  
"Oh, cows," Neville yelped, covering his face with his hands. "I mean, oh, _cows_!"  
  
"Only you, Nev," Ginny giggled helplessly. "Could make 'cows' sound naughty."  
  
"Am I remembering correctly?"  
  
"Well, if you are remembering a sex romp with that ferret Malfoy on the floor of the prefect's bathroom, then yes, I would say that you are."  
  
"The bath tub."  
  
"What?"  
  
"It was in the tub," Neville revealed in a horrified whisper. "Not the floor."  
  
"Oh," Ginny breathed. "_Cows_."  
  
Neville laughed. "Too much information?"  
  
"Far from it, actually," Ginny draped her arm around Neville's waist. "Not enough information!"  
  
"Ginny!" Neville sounded scandalised.  
  
"Well, as you pointed out to Harry and everyone else last night," Ginny laughed good-naturedly. "I do fancy a good shag from him. And as I have no intentions of doing it myself, I intend to live vicariously through you."  
  
"Oh, no!" the despairing Gryffindor wailed. "I did say that, didn't I?"  
  
"It's okay," Ginny reassured him with a pat. "I was able to convince Harry that you were obviously delusional."  
  
"Gee, thanks."  
  
"I mean, really," Ginny continued airily. "Who would want that horribly pale and perfect body pressed against theirs while that deviously delectable pink mouth of his did absolutely revolting and riveting things to you?"  
  
Neville grinned. "No one I can think of."  
  
"But to bring us back to the issue at hand," Ginny's voice turned soft and serious. "Why did you do it, Neville?"  
  
Neville closed his eyes. He was ashamed of his actions. He had never so blatantly disregarded the rules of Hogwarts and society before. He had yelled at Hermione for goodness sake! He had had sex with Malfoy!  
  
A surge of giddiness attacked him. He never knew he had it in him! Despite his shame, he had an overwhelming feeling of pride.  
  
"Gin," Neville sighed, stamping out his giddiness. "It was just a one time thing. I just needed to prove to myself that I could do something."  
  
"So, it was just once, then?"  
  
"Yes, absolutely," Neville turned and kissed his friend's forehead reassuringly. "I _swear_ it."

* * *

Draco sat at his desk, dividing colorful tablets and slipping them into individual tiny leather pouches.   
  
_Six Green Goblins for the Patils. Three Nimbus XXXs for Terry Boot. Five Illuminatas for Professor Trelawny. Two Dark Avengers for Pansy. Ten Dirty Bludgers for Hannah Abbott--_  
  
Draco's brow furrowed in concentration. Ten tablets were more than Hannah normally ordered from him. He consulted his notebook and seeing that ten was the number she had requested, smirked. _Must be a wild party planned up in Hufflepuff this weekend._   
  
After all of the pouches were tied shut with thin leather thongs, Draco dropped them into the deep pocket of his robes. He intended to deliver them after lunch. His mundane task complete, Draco lounged back in his desk chair and turned his thoughts to Neville Longbottom.   
  
It had been nearly a full week since the Yule Ball. He had been observing Neville from afar, to see if he smoothed things over with his housemates. He was almost disappointed to see that Neville was keeping to himself more than usual. The Quartet certainly did not seem in a hurry to let him back into their fold. Only Ginny Weasley had any voluntary contact with the poor boy.  
  
Draco had noticed something that interested him much more than the Gryffindors' self-righteous silent treatment. It was the way that Neville entered the room. It was different. It had taken him a while to pinpoint the difference, but when he did, he was, once again, shocked.  
  
Neville no longer cowered when he walked. His eyes were no longer downcast as he entered the Great Hall. His head was hardly held high, but he was definitely more composed. Almost… confident.   
  
_Now why do you suppose that is?_  
  
Draco knew, of course, that Neville was still a bunny operating in a world full of wolves, but he saw a definite potential. A potential for what, Draco did not yet know.  
  
And so he thought.

* * *

Neville leaned his head against his fist and stirred the potion before him almost nonchalantly. He was bored. He hated potions more than just about anything in the world—excepting of course, the Potions Professor. Neville's gaze flitted up from the cauldron before him to Snape, who was leaning over the table in front of him. The hideous creature appeared to be dressing down Harry and Ron for some mistake or another. Neville could not stop his eyes from rolling.  
  
The sound of ruffling of fabric drew Neville out of his bored reverie. He sat up and turned to face the formerly empty stool beside him to see… "_Malfoy_?"  
  
"Mr. Malfoy," Snape's cold voice echoed through the silent room. The students collectively jumped and turned to seek out Draco in the room. "What are you doing?"  
  
"I forgot my book, Professor," Draco explained innocently. "I'm going to share with Longbottom."  
  
"Why don't you share with—"  
  
"All of the other tables are full, sir," Draco told him without missing a beat. "I'm fine here."  
  
"Well," Snape waved a judicious hand. "See that he does not melt the cauldron, then."  
  
After Snape turned away, Draco shot Neville a smile in greeting.  
  
"What are you doing?" Neville demanded in a low whisper, pushing the potions textbook closer to the Slytherin. "I mean, _really_, why are you sitting here?"  
  
Draco shrugged off the question and peered at the grey liquid simmering in the cauldron. "Isn't this supposed to be green?"  
  
"Yeah, probably," Neville did not look back at the cauldron, nor did he look concerned by the mistake. "But I've always preferred grey."  
  
"Do you really?" Draco looked at Neville in curiosity. _What an odd thing to say._  
  
"Yes," Neville held Draco's gaze unflinchingly. "Green is so obvious. It is easy to like green."  
  
"But grey is mundane," Draco countered, wondering if they were actually talking about shades of the rainbow. "Isn't it?"  
  
"No," Neville shook his head empathetically. "It just takes a more refined eye to really see and appreciate grey."  
  
"And _you_ are refined?"  
  
"Well, obviously," Neville's mouth quirked into a small smile. "At least my eye is."  
  
Draco found himself smiling back. _How utterly charming._  
  
Neville focused on the other boy's grey eyes and wondered if Draco knew that he was not just talking about colors of a spectrum. He was willing to wager that Draco knew everything.

Draco raised an eyebrow questioningly at Neville. He was just beginning to consider the implication of the obvious allegorical comparison of himself to Harry Potter when Snape swooped down upon the pair.  
  
"Messieurs Malfoy and Longbottom!" Professor Snape barked from immediately in front of their table. "I do hope that you are trying to _divine_ the instructions for this potion from each other's retinas, for I can think of no other reason for you to be staring at each other."  
  
A wave of muffled laughter swept over the room.  
  
"No Professor," Draco slid his eyes from Neville's to Snape's slowly. "We were having a dispute about the intended color of this potion."  
  
"Is that so?" Snape looked into the cauldron, his face twisting into obvious disgust at the murky liquid inside. "And what color should it be, Mr. Malfoy?"  
  
"Grey," Draco's clear, unaffected voice rang throughout the classroom.  
  
Neville's eyes snapped to the professor's face in time to see his mouth open and close several times in quick succession. Just as a hysterical laugh bubbled up in his chest, Neville felt Draco's knee nudge him firmly, as if trying to deliver some cue.  
  
"Sir--" Neville's cheeks flushed a brilliant shade of pink as he realized that he had actually spoken out loud. He frantically prayed that he had understood Draco's nudge.  
  
"Yes, Mr. Longbottom?" Snape, despite himself, looked intrigued at his student's outcry. He could not remember one time in seven years that Longbottom had actually voluntarily spoken in the dungeon.  
  
"I tried to tell Malfoy, sir," Neville lifted his chin slightly, if not defiantly. "That the potion ought to be _green_, sir."  
  
Draco's knee bumped Neville's in a motion that reminded Neville of a pat of approval.  
  
Snape's coal black eyes narrowed suspiciously. There was too much wrong with the situation for it to be taken at face value. Yes, Malfoy was scowling in outrage at the Gryffindor who had just bested him, but the boy still had his leg firmly pressed against Longbottom's. And Neville was looking at his teacher with absolute conviction. No, something foul was definitely afoot.  
  
"Five points from—" Snape paused. He should take points from Malfoy for his stupidity. Just as he should award points to Longbottom for actually getting an answer correct. Of course, he would do neither. "Get back to work."  
  
Professor Snape moved to the next table, but kept a subtle eye on the unlikely pair. Just as his suspicion of foul play was abating, he saw Malfoy wink and prop his foot up on the lower rung of Neville's stool. When Neville flashed Draco a dazzling smile in return, Snape's lips curled away from his teeth in anger.  
  
"That does it," the potions master slammed the palms of his hands against the table before him, making its occupants jump in terror. "Malfoy. Longbottom. Detention. Tonight."  
  
Every pair of eyes turned to see what horrible offense Snape's favourite student had committed. They were very shocked indeed to find that Hogwarts' Most Horrible was… _doing nothing at all_.  
  
Neville's mouth was open as if he intended to speak out against the detention, but to the amazement of both teacher and students, Draco placed a quelling hand on Neville's arm and shook his head fervently. Neville closed his mouth and sat silently as Snape began lecturing them scathingly.  
  
_Perfect._ Draco slowly pulled his hand off of Neville's arm and tried to look contrite. An hour of detention would give him an almost too convenient and largely uninterrupted forum to talk Neville into seeing things his way. At the table in front of them, Harry was glaring at Draco, as if daring him to make further trouble. In an uncharacteristic outpouring of good humor, Draco blew his enemy a kiss.

* * *

"Where's Neville?"   
  
"He and Malfoy have detention with Snape tonight," Ron told his sister at dinner later that day. "They got in trouble in class today."  
  
"Detention with Malfoy?" Ginny dropped her fork and turned to grab Harry's robes. "Tonight?"  
  
"Yes," Harry wrenched his robes out Ginny's grasp and narrowed his eyes at his girlfriend's purpling face. "What _is_ your problem?"  
  
"Harry," Ginny's voice was shrill and inpatient. "This is very important—what, exactly, did they do to get detention?"  
  
"I don't know," Harry shrugged. "Ask Hermione."  
  
Ginny wheeled around to face the girl sitting in front of her. "What happened?"  
  
"As far as I could tell," Hermione circled her hand in the air as if trying to find the appropriate word to describe the punishable offense. "_Nothing_."  
  
"Nothing?"  
  
"Yeah," Hermione shook her head. "They were sharing a textbook and then—"  
  
"Sharing?"  
  
Yes, sharing," Hermione shot Ginny an exasperated look. "And then Snape asked them about the color of the potion. Malfoy got it wrong."  
  
"Excuse me?" Ginny's eyes widened in disbelief. It was common knowledge that Draco Malfoy was the best potions student at Hogwarts.  
  
"And Neville got it right," Ron chimed in, his face lighting up at the memory of Draco getting an answer incorrect. "I thought Snape was going to brick it."  
  
Ginny stood up abruptly and ran from the room without further comment.  
  
Harry watched her go before turning back to his dinner. "When do you think she is just going to give up on him?"  
  
"Fortunately for Neville," Hermione wiped her hands and rose from the table. "Never."

_

* * *

_

___You shouldn't kiss me like this_  
_Unless you mean it like that_  
_Cause I'll just close my eyes_  
_And I won't know where I'm at_

--You Shouldn't Kiss Me Like This by Toby Keith

.

"You will be scrubbing the work surfaces by hand," Snape pushed a bucket into Neville's arms, the warm soapy water sloshing out, soaking his thin white tee shirt in the process. "I will be in my office, lest you get any ideas of exploring new, more fascinating facets of your—_friendship_."  
  
The innuendo in Snape's snarky comment was hard to miss. Draco smirked at Neville's quick, guilty blush.   
  
After the embittered professor disappeared into his office, Draco took the bucket from Neville and sat it on the nearest table. His eyes raked over Neville's torso, which was clearly visible with the drenched fabric clinging to his skin.  
  
Neville crossed his arms over his chest and watched as Draco dipped a sponge into the bucket, holding it submerged as the water seeped into the porous rag. Draco's eyes had not left Neville's body and a dull thudding started making its way from Neville's head down to his stomach. He felt like an animal on display.  
  
"Malfoy," Neville uncrossed his arms, picked up a sponge and plunged his hand into the water. "What are we doing here?"  
  
"It's detention, Longbottom," Draco told him with a hint of amusement. "And I believe we are to scrub the—"  
  
"I got that part," Neville told him, his head pointed down, watching the soap bubbles float around their submerged hands. "What I meant is why did you do that today?"  
  
"I don't know," Draco shook his wrist under the water, the back of his fingers brushing against Neville's. "Maybe because I didn't want Snape to have at you."  
  
"I can handle Snape," Neville muttered unconvincingly, his hand drifting against Draco's.  
  
"I'm sure you can," Draco's fingers released his sponge and flexed, his pinky hooking onto Neville's thumb. "But maybe I wanted us to get in trouble."  
  
Neville grasped the sponge tightly in his fist.  
  
"Maybe I like you," Draco's head bowed slightly, his platinum fringe falling into his eyes. He felt Neville's fingers tremble beneath his. "Maybe the only way I could find to talk to you alone was to get us both detention."  
  
Neville's breath caught in his throat. He could not fathom that this beautiful boy would have wanted anything from someone like him. "Is that true?"  
  
Instead of answering, Draco leaned over the bucket and brushed his lips against Neville's. It was the barest of touches. Neville's mouth fell open, although he had no words ready. He was certain that if his eyes had not been open, he would have sworn that the kiss had been a product of his overactive imagination.   
  
Draco regarded him for a moment before withdrawing his hand from the bucket and reaching for the speechless boy before him. His soapy hand slid around Neville's neck as he pulled him against his chest, the wetness from Neville's shirt dampening Draco's own. A sigh of resignation escaped Neville's mouth a second before he wrapped his arms around the blond boy and returned the kiss.  
  
The night of the Yule Ball flooded back into Neville's memory. He remembered kissing Draco. It had been wild, violently passionate and oh-so-good. This kiss, this tender and slow kiss with its shared breaths and caressing tongues, made every kiss before it seem like child's play.  
  
Draco shivered from the intensity of the embrace. He felt Neville pouring every bit of emotion—fear, lust, hope—into his mouth. He was overwhelmed and knew that he should stop, knew that he was getting in too deep, but he was powerless to do so.  
  
"Oh no," an unexpected voice wailed from the doorway, making the boys jump apart, the spell of the kiss broken. "Neville, how could you?"  
  
"Gin," Neville shook his head to focus his thoughts, his hand wiping his mouth self-consciously. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"I came when I heard you had detention with _him_," her blue eyes flashed daggers at Draco. "I was afraid that he would try something."  
  
"Ginny," Neville hurried over to her. "I'm okay, really."  
  
"You promised me," Ginny whispered harshly, her small foot stamping on the dungeon floor in anger. "You never intended to keep your word, did you?"  
  
"I haven't broken my promise," Neville shot a glance over his shoulder at Draco before continuing. "I promised you that I would never take Ecstasy again. And I don't intend to!"  
  
"No!" Ginny shook her head, her long red hair falling over her shoulders. "We were talking about _him_!"  
  
"I'm still in the room," Draco pointed out sarcastically. "It's rude to—"  
  
Ginny sent him a withering look. "This is all your fault, _Malfoy_."  
  
"Ouch," Draco drawled sarcastically, approaching her like a lion with its eyes on a prey. "No one has ever said my name so scathingly before."  
  
"I'm going to hex you into next year," Ginny growled, reaching for the wand in her pocket.  
  
"Bring it," Draco shoved his damp sleeves up to his elbows and went for his own wand.  
  
"Ginny," Neville grabbed the small Gryffindor by the shoulders and shook her gently. "Stop."  
  
Ginny's eyes filled with tears as she looked at her friend. She watched in morbid fascination as the soapy water from the back of Neville's neck made its way beneath his shirt collar. His cheeks were pink and his lips were swollen. Quite unintentionally, her eyes darted to Draco who stood just behind Neville. He was in an identical state, down to the path of soapy water on his neck.  
  
"You want him?" Ginny croaked. "And you, Malfoy, want Neville?"  
  
Neville turned his head to look at Draco before responding. Draco's lips turned up slightly and his head inclined regally. Neville grinned broadly and turned back to Ginny. "Yes."  
  
"I—" Ginny pulled her arms free and started backing away, her face drawn and her body tense. "I have to go. I can't—I just have to go."  
  
Neville's heart sank. "Et tu, Ginny?"  
  
"Hey," Draco rested a hand on Neville's shoulder tentatively. "Are you okay?"  
  
"Yeah," Neville ran his hand through his dark locks. "Let's get this shit done. I'm exhausted."

* * *

The Gryffindor Common Room was many things to many people. To the First Years, it was "base"—nothing bad could happen so long as they made it through the portrait hole. To Harry, Ron and Hermione it was a den for the plotting of their next daring adventure in rule breaking. To every Gryffindor, it was home. To Neville, it was a room with chairs and nothing more.  
  
Neville sat slumped into the armchair closest to the fire, his long legs propped up on a footstool. He gazed into the crackling flames, weighing his options as they were presented to him earlier. He knew that the time had come to make a decision.  
  
On one hand, he had Ginny and all that she offered: friendship, stability, a protection of sorts, through Harry, but ultimately, loneliness.  
  
On the other hand, there was Draco and all that came with him: companionship, unpredictability, protection of a different sort, and most likely danger.  
  
Neville ground the heel of his hands into his eyes. How did he end up in this situation, with these choices? Less than a month ago his life had been idyllic. No one expected anything from him—perhaps because they knew that he was incapable of accomplishing anything more than surviving the day. Yes, his life had been simple. And unsatisfying.  
  
At the Yule Ball, Neville had gotten a taste of freedom from that life. It had been unconventional and exciting. He had broken several rules and had made the entire school drop their jaws at his association with Draco Malfoy.  
  
And now, a week later, he was back in his stultifying life. It was as if his eyes had been closed his entire life, and now, finally, they were beginning to open. Was this growing up? Neville would have guessed, had you asked him two weeks ago, that it would have been a more gradual process instead of happening in a jolting instant.   
  
But now he knew better. Now he knew that one defining moment could set the course for everything that comes to pass thereafter. That moment came for Neville when he looked at Ginny and saw her unspoken ultimatum: _Me or Him_.  
  
His first instinct was to choose the safe and predictable Ginny and the Gryffindors. Ginny loved him and would always be there for him when he cried.  
  
_No_, his mind yelled viciously. _She will not! She has turned her back on you for daring to want something that does not fit into her plans._  
  
Would Draco stand by him through thick and thin? Doubtful, but at least with Draco, he knew what to expect. He could not be disappointed by someone who never made promises, could he?  
  
_It's my fault_. Neville leaned his head back, breathing deeply as his sorrow seeped into his bones. He had never really been a part of the Gryffindor House. He had been foolish to think that it did not matter. It mattered in everything. He would never be allowed to pursue anything that did not fit in with the Gryffindor Ideal.  
  
Neville slowly pulled his maroon and gold striped tie off and dropped it on the floor by his feet. The sun had been up for hours. The Gryffindors would be making their way to breakfast in a few minutes. As if on cue, the Gryffindor Seventh Year boys thundered down the staircase and disappeared out the portrait hole. Not one of them had spared Neville a glance.  
  
Neville stood up, stretching. He needed a shower before going down. After a long night of solitary contemplation, Neville had finally reached a decision that would alter the course of his future forever.  
  
He bounded up the stairs, his mood light and refreshed despite his lack of sleep.  
  
His tie lay crumpled on the floor, forgotten. 

* * *

...To be continued

_**Artwork for this chapter is here:**_ http:www.hibi-esque.com/gallery/forfic/tieRWI.jpg


	4. Times, They Are AChangin'

Chapter Three: Times, They Are A-changin' 

_You thought you could keep me from loving __  
__You thought you could feed on my soul _  
_But while you were busy destroying my life _  
_What was half in me has become whole _  
  
_While you were looking the other way _  
_While you had your eyes closed _  
_While you were licking your lips _  
_'Cause I was miserable _  
_While you were selling your soul _  
_While you were tearing a hole in me _  
  
_I was taking control_  
  
_"Control" by Poe_

Neville stepped into the Great Hall and paused. His eyes scanned the crowd deliberately, taking notice that everyone was in attendance. He took time to look directly at each Gryffindor, although they never looked up at him. His gaze flicked over the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables, dismissing them out of hand. They meant nothing to him. When he turned his head to look at the Slytherins, he was startled to see every eye on him. They were watching him intently, as if sizing him up for some unnamed challenge.  
  
_Slytherins watch and understand everything._  
  
Neville tore his eyes away from Draco, who was leaning forward, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly agape, and looked at the faculty table. Professor Dumbledore was watching him closely, a goblet arrested on its way to his lips. Slightly unnerved, Neville turned back to the Gryffindor table. This time, Ginny was facing him, her mouth trembling and her hands beckoning him forward frantically.  
  
Neville blinked slowly and turned once again to the Slytherins. As if in slow motion, Draco pushed himself to his feet and stood patiently waiting, a small, proud smile on his lips. Without casting any further looks at Ginny or Dumbledore, Neville walked to the Slytherin table, his head held high, and his back ramrod straight.  
  
"Slytherin House," Draco's voice rang out loud and clear in a tone of authority and utter determination. "Stand and welcome our newest brother, Neville Longbottom."  
  
Students at the other tables swung around to see the entire Slytherin table stand in perfect unison and begin applauding loudly as Neville took a place to Draco's immediate right. Ginny's scream of anguish could be heard over the din, but both the students and the professors were too shocked by what they were witnessing to comfort her.  
  
Not in one hundred years had Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry seen a House Break. And never, in Hogwarts' long and complex history, had a Gryffindor broke house to join Slytherin.  
  
The Hogwarts' charter contained a provision that allowed students the option to switch houses in the event of irreconcilable differences between the student and their assigned house. It had been rarely used over the years, and only in extreme situations.   
  
The break could be accomplished quite simply. A student merely had to publicly renounce his own house and be shown warm welcome by the new house. If the break was amicable, the break was done by way of a posted announcement, with handshakes and good will extended by all.   
  
If the break was, on the other hand, bitter or unexpected, the student could, before the entire student body and faculty, approach the new house's table in the Great Hall before first visiting his own house table. For the house being broken, this act was one of extreme disrespect and cause for generations-long feuds.   
  
If Dumbledore had known that the House Break clause would ever be invoked during his tenure, he certainly would have amended it to remove the option of an unmediated break. As it was, the headmaster could do nothing but bow his head in an uncharacteristic show of disappointment.  
  
The applause of the Slytherins eventually died down, leaving the room uncomfortably silent, excepting the wrenching sobs of Ginny Weasley.  
  
"Thank you," Neville murmured to Draco as he settled into his seat, steadfastly refusing to look up at the prying eyes around him.  
  
"You know," Draco commented quietly. "It would have been preferable if you would have told me that you were planning on breaking house _before_ you actually did it, you dolt."  
  
Neville shrugged and shot his new housemate a wry smirk. "I would have thought that you'd approve of the dramatic flare of the unknown."  
  
"Touché," Draco grinned, picking up a plate. "Did you at least tell Dumbledore or your grandmother?"  
  
"No," Neville's eyes darkened. "Do you really think that either one of them would have let me do this?"  
  
"I'm going to go with 'hell no'," Draco spooned a generous portion of meat pie on the plate and set it in front of Neville. "Eat up."  
  
"My trunk is in the corridor," Neville told him as he dove into the food. "I left all of my Gryffindor robes and sweaters and all up in the Tower."  
  
"That is how I knew what you were going to do," Draco turned and plucked at Neville's grey sweater sporting the Hogwarts seal instead of the Gryffindor badge. "No one wears these hideous things."  
  
"Well," Neville said matter-of-factly. "It was either this or nothing."  
  
"Now see," Draco's voice dropped to a faint purr. "_That_ is something I could get behind."  
  
Neville's cheeks began to flush, but he was spared from commenting by a tentative tap on his left shoulder. He turned, his back bumping against Draco's shoulder, to see Pansy Parkinson looking at him curiously.  
  
"Hey, Longbottom."  
  
"Hey, Pansy."  
  
"Right," Pansy bit her lower lip. "_Neville_, then. Are you going to tell us why you broke house?"  
  
"Pansy," Draco leaned over Neville, his chin resting lightly on the other boy's shoulder. "Let's give him a few days to settle, shall we? Then we'll get details."  
  
"Did you know about this, Draco?" Pansy asked, although there was no accusation in her voice.  
  
"Hadn't a clue, doll," Draco admitted cheerily. "But leave it to a bloody Gryffindor to actually have the courage to break house."  
  
"Excuse me," Neville sniffed haughtily, shaking Draco off his shoulder. "_I'm_ a _Slytherin_."

* * *

  
  
"But why?" Ginny sobbed, hugging Neville's pillow to her chest. "Why would he do something like this?"  
  
"Ginny," Harry sat on the foot of Neville's bed and exhaled sharply. "Look, who knows why Neville does anything? I mean, he's barely even a wizard."  
  
"What?" Ginny croaked, wiping her eyes so that she could see Harry better. "What does that mean?"  
  
"Forget it," Harry reached for his girlfriend. "Who cares, anyway? Just let it go."  
  
Ginny jerked away from Harry and leapt off the bed. She could not believe what she was hearing. What had happened to the sweet boy she had once thought could do no wrong? This Harry was an egocentric prat who could care less about those outside of his own very tight, very closed circle of friends.  
  
"_I_ care, Harry," Ginny threw the pillow in her arms at Harry viciously. "Neville is my best friend!"  
  
Harry caught the pillow and tossed it to the floor. "_Was_, Ginny, Neville _was_ your best friend."  
  
"He still is," Ginny yelled.  
  
"He broke house, Ginny," he told her, as if that one statement closed the topic.  
  
"What would you do if it was Ron?" she demanded, her hands gesticulating wildly. "What if it had been _Ron_ who had broken house?"  
  
"That is ridiculous," Harry snapped, taking a step closer to Ginny. "He has too much honor to ever do something so stupid."  
  
"Honor is often misplaced," Ginny told him, narrowing her blue eyes. "As is pride."  
  
"What does that mean?" Harry grabbed her upper arms roughly, wrangling a cry of alarm from the small girl. "Are you talking about me?"  
  
"If you have to ask, Harry," Ginny ground out, her face contorted in a mixture of pain and anger. "Then you already know the answer."  
  
"How dare you," Harry shoved Ginny away from him hard, sending her sprawling to the floor. "Get out."  
  
Ginny scrambled to her feet, her hair flying around her face in a storm of red silk. "I do not even know who you are anymore. You are not the Harry I love."  
  
"I said _get out_," Harry pointed to the door, waiting for his girlfriend to leave. "Now."  
  
Ginny turned on her heel and stormed from the room, slamming the door closed behind her. Harry stood still, staring at a Gryffindor tie swinging to and fro on a hook on the back of the door Ginny had just shut. Slowly, the tie stopped swinging and snaked off of the hook, fluttering to the floor in with a barely audible woosh of air.  
  
Harry blinked and bent to retrieve the pillow he had tossed to the floor just moments ago. He walked to the bed and gently laid it at the head, smoothing out the wrinkles in the fabric. Staring at the pillow, Harry tried to reconcile the fact that Neville was gone from his life. At least, Neville was no longer a friend or ally. He was an enemy. A Slytherin.  
  
A wave of misery drove the dark haired boy to crawl into Neville's cold bed, crossing his legs and resting his forehead in his hands. Memories of the years that he had spent, or almost spent, with Neville danced before his eyes. Neville was always in the background of his memories, never a key participant, but that wasn't Harry's fault, was it?. Guilt wracked through Harry's psyche as he thought of all the times that he could have reached out to Neville. He could have made Neville feel more part of the group. He could have spent one on one time with him. He could have… anything.  
  
He had failed Neville.   
  
Harry had never failed before. He had defeated Voldemort in several incarnations, he had defeated a dragon and he had defeated the dreaded Imperius curse. Each time he faced adversity he knew that failure was possible, but not a viable option. This time, he failed before realising there was a challenge.  
  
And now he had failed Ginny as well. He knew that he had treated her abominably. He would have to apologize. But what could he say to her? He had no ready words.  
  
He had failed_._

__

* * *

Hagrid watched the Slytherins arrive with trepidation. He had, of course, been present for the House Break that morning and had immediately begun to dread that afternoon's lesson. He anticipated bitter words and possibly a physical scuffle.  
  
The original lesson plan involved Blood-sucking Bugbears, but upon reflection, Hagrid determined it would be in everyone's best interest if the lesson was kept to something more placid and less blood-sucking. The lesson, instead, would involve Puffskeins. Hagrid could not imagine anyone being ill tempered when holding the adorable little fur balls.   
  
"Oh, Hagrid," Parvati Patil squealed, looking into the crate on the ground. "Puffskeins!"  
  
"Puffskeins?" Draco sneered. "You've got to be joking. Isn't this _Advanced_ Studies?"  
  
Hagrid flushed. Of course, he had let himself forget that the Slytherins were always ill tempered. "Er…"  
  
"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry's deep voice snapped.   
  
"Hm," Draco tilted his head to the side and tapped his index finger against his lower lip as if considering Harry's command. "No, I don't think I will."  
  
"Today," Hagrid boomed loudly, making all of the students in the paddock jump. "We're takin' it easy. Jus' playin' a bit. Pair up and find a spot."  
  
Draco looked disgusted by the idea, but Neville, who had been standing next to Draco stepped forward and picked up a rather small Puffskein and turned to grin at him. Harry watched in amazement as the pale Slytherin broke into an unaffected smile and walked toward Neville.  
  
"Okay, _fine_," Draco sighed dramatically, reaching out to scratch the Puffskein gingerly. "I will play with the little furries. But I want it to be known that I stand by my initial disgust of the whole idea."  
  
"Oh, just hush, you prat," Neville turned his head toward Pansy and Tracey Davis. "Why don't you guys get one and we'll go under the trees and let them play together?"  
  
"Okay," Pansy grabbed Tracey by the robe sleeve and went to retrieve a Puffskein. "We'll be right there."  
  
Disconcerted by both Neville's uncharacteristic order-issuing and Malfoy's unprecedented order-_taking_, Harry reached down and grabbed a Puffskein roughly, causing it to squeak indignantly. He went to Ron and Hermione and dropped it in Hermione's outstretched arms.   
  
"Hey," Ron chided him. "You have to be gentle with these little guys. You know, I used to have one of these, you know, before Scabbers."  
  
"Yeah," Harry grumbled, plopping on the grass unceremoniously, his eyes following Neville across the lawn. "I remember you telling us."  
  
Ron scanned the area, trying to find Harry's scowling target. He grimaced when he saw Neville sitting cross-legged in a circle with Draco, Pansy and Tracey. The quartet was laughing merrily as they watched their two Puffskeins roll over each other gaily.   
  
"Harry," Ron shook his head. "You need to just let it go. Neville looks happy."  
  
"Longbottom," Harry said succinctly. "Is a traitor."  
  
"Okay, fine," Ron threw his hands up in the air. "He is a traitor. Does that mean that you are going to spend the rest of the year glowering at him?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Brilliant idea," Hermione chimed in, her face snuggled against the soft fur of the Puffskein. "At least he is always with Malfoy. You can glower at both of them at the same time. Saves energy, that."  
  
"Very funny," Harry muttered, reluctantly tearing his eyes from the group of Slytherins. "I just can't believe that he would rather be with them than us!"  
  
"Well, look at them," Hermione nodded her head in the direction of the rival group. "Have you ever seen Neville laugh like that?"  
  
"_I_ haven't," Ron admitted. His face twisted into disgust. "I don't think I've ever seen Malfoy look so… would you call that _happy_?… before."  
  
"Eeew," Hermione groaned and shivered. "A genuine smile on Malfoy's face. That is scary."  
  
Sitting beneath a large tree at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Neville and his housemates were cooing over the two Puffskeins, who were now tired out and snuggling into Pansy and Draco's arms.  
  
"Of course," Draco told Neville quietly. "We will deny that snuggling ever happened here today— should anyone ask."  
  
"Naturally," Neville nodded seriously. "Can't have the Slytherin reputation suffer at the furry little hands of a Puffskein."  
  
"Exactly," Draco beamed at Neville for his apparent understanding of the Slytherin Way.  
  
"Hey, Neville," Tracey scooted closer to Neville and nodded her head toward the group of Gryffindors watching them. "You've got a fan club."  
  
Neville raised his eyes and saw Harry, Ron and Hermione staring openly at him. He turned back to Tracey, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. "So I do."  
  
"What should we do about them?" Pansy asked. "Shall we hit them with a jelly-leg curse when they get up?"  
  
"That would be wrong, wouldn't it?" Neville asked worriedly. "I mean they wouldn't be prepared to defend themselves."  
  
"We're _Slytherin_, Neville," Draco reminded him with a mischievous smirk. "Wrong is what we _do_."  
  
Neville smiled, an odd feeling surging through his veins. Was it excitement at the prospect of breaking the rules? Or the anticipation of doling out punishment on the friends who had never really been friends at all?   
  
The Slytherins chatted quietly until Hagrid called for the return of the Puffskeins. Draco lifted himself into a standing position without the use of his hands. Neville was lost in watching Draco's lithe body and nearly missed his cue to turn and fire a curse at Harry.  
  
"One…" Draco counted quietly. "Two… THREE!"  
  
A chorus of voices rang out followed by a spark as the curse left the three wands. The hit was direct, causing Harry, Hermione and Ron to stumble about on weakened legs. Hermione fell forward, dropping her Puffskein in the process. Ron reached out to help her, but was too unstable to do much more than tumble on top of her.   
  
Harry retained his balance better than his friends and looked directly at Neville, who was still holding his wand out in front of him. The dark haired Gryffindor wordlessly reached for his wand, his glare fixed on Neville.  
  
Neville was unsure what to do. His dueling skills were certainly not up to par with the infamous Harry "I've Beaten Voldemort Oh So Many Times" Potter. His dark eyes darted to Draco for counsel.  
  
"Potter will always play fair," Draco told him quickly. "He is obviously going to come after you instead of me… which is a spot of fun, isn't it! The key to winning is hitting him first."  
  
"With what?"  
  
"Keep it simple," Draco cautioned, watching as Harry fought to hold his wand steady. "Go with a disarming spell."  
  
Neville's voice was controlled and simple as he called out. "_Expelliarmus_!"  
  
Much to Harry's surprise, his wand flew from his grip and landed several feet behind him. Neville's mouth dropped open in sheer surprise. Draco's hiss of approval mingled with Harry's outraged yell made Neville's soar to all new heights. He had done it! He had disarmed Harry Fucking Potter!  
  
"Come on," Draco grabbed Neville's wrist and jerked him into a run. "Let's get out of here!"  
  
"They know it was us," Neville pointed out as he jogged along next to Draco. "We're sure to get detention whether we run or not."  
  
"I don't think so," Draco countered. "Hagrid was too busy with the Puffskeins. He didn't see anything. And I seriously doubt that Potter will want to broadcast to the entire school that _you_ defeated him in a duel."  
  
"It wasn't a fair duel," Neville commented. "I could never beat him in a real duel."  
  
"Maybe not now, but you will be able to beat him eventually," Draco pushed the door leading to the inside of the castle open. "I'll see to that."  
  
"Okay, so he won't tell Hagrid," Neville chewed his lip as he followed Draco down the stairs toward the dungeons. "But knowing Harry, he will be dead set on revenge."  
  
"Of course he will," Draco turned, taking backward steps so as to look at his housemate. "Out-fucking-standing."  
  
"Wait," Neville stopped suddenly, his face whitening. "Why is that a _good_ thing?"  
  
"Because you bested him!" Draco's body oozed an intense hatred that made Neville flinch until he realized that the emotion was for Harry and not himself. No, Draco was his friend now. "He underestimated you, Neville! You made him understand that you are a force to be reckoned with."  
  
"I did?" Neville grinned and gestured for Draco to continue the walk to the Slytherin dormitory. "A new bad boy in town, huh? I like it."  
  
"Neville," Draco draped an arm around the other boy's broad shoulders. "You are about to be one of the Worst Boys."  
  
"I am?"  
  
"Oh yes," Draco's eyes gleamed in anticipation. "And do you know what comes with being one of the Worst?"  
  
"The fear of your peers?"  
  
"Well, yes, actually, that too," Draco's lip curled in wry amusement at Neville's assessment. "But also respect."  
  
Neville's face clouded over. The one thing he always wanted and was never afforded. _Respect_. The one thing that he would do anything to obtain. _Respect_. The one thing that he would sacrifice anything to achieve. **Respect**.  
  
"And you, Neville," Draco paused to give the Slytherin password before continuing. "Are way overdue for respect around here."  
  
The pair entered the deserted Common Room. Immediately, the former Gryffindor sucked in a sharp breath of awe. The room was nothing like the Gryffindor Commons. He was instantly aware that there were no windows in the room. That was bad. He scanned the room, taking a detailed inventory: a fireplace that was nearly twice the size of Gryffindors (_wow_); leather couches and armchairs (_nice_); a huge bookcase lining one entire wall, stocked to the brim with fascinating titles (_ooh_).  
  
Draco watched Neville's face go from dark to light as he took in the imposing room. "Well, better than the Tower, then?"  
  
"Actually, yes," Neville said at once. "Except—there are no windows."  
  
"Of course not!" Draco sounded horribly offended at the idea of light bearing holes being present in his House. "This is the dungeon after all!"  
  
"No emergency exits, then?"  
  
"Emergency exits?" Draco blinked at the odd question. "What would we need those for?"  
  
"You know," Neville shrugged, a smile dancing across his features. "To escape from the bad guys."  
  
"But we _are_ the bad guys!"  
  
The two boys stood in silence, staring at each other with questioning eyes before dissolving into a fit of hysterical laughter. Neville laughed at the absurdity that he was now one of the "Bad Guys". Draco laughed at the entire day. He really _should_ pinch himself to make sure he was not in some bizarre dream sequence.  
  
"Come on," Draco wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes with the back of his hand. "Let me show you the rest."

* * *

Neville shuffled his feet as he watched Draco slide his trunk under a window on the far wall. The room was spacious and warm. Wall length tapestries of the Slytherin emblem hung on either side of the large four-poster bed. Heavy silver candelabras holding thick black candles donned the mantelpiece over the fire. Draco's desk was neat, a large locked chest standing to one side. A dark green chaise sat in front of the fire, several velvet pillows scattered on top.  
  
"Welcome to my humble abode," Draco gestured to the chaise as he shrugged out of his robes. "Sit down."  
  
"You have a window in here?" Neville cleared his throat, suddenly very nervous about being in such close confines with the beautiful boy who was now his housemate.  
  
"Not really," Draco glanced at the window and then back at Neville. "It's just a bit of enchanted wall. It is always the same scene. And always daytime."  
  
"I am deeply shocked," Neville commented seriously. "I thought you preferred the shadows of night."  
  
"Yes, well," Draco looked out the window again. "That is the general assumption, isn't it? And if you ever tell anyone about this window, I will _so_ kill you."  
  
Neville laughed, knowing instantly that the threat, while probably very real, was Draco's twisted idea of a joke. And oddly, Neville found it funny.  
  
"I thought you'd be more comfortable staying in here with me tonight," Draco said suddenly, taking a key from his trouser pocket and going to the chest on his desk. "We can get you set up in the Seventh Year dorm tomorrow. If you'd like."  
  
_If I'd like?_  
  
Neville pondered on the possible meanings of that statement while Draco turned the key in the lock and opened the chest. He settled into his desk chair and took out several leather pouches. "We'll go down to dinner with everyone else, but first I have to get some baggies made up."  
  
"Baggies?" Neville approached the desk and peered over Draco's shoulder. "What is it?"  
  
"It's our newest line of _E_," Draco explained, holding up a white tablet with an embossed Snitch on it. "It is the White Snitch."  
  
"Is that what you gave me for the Yule Ball?" Neville was at once repulsed and spellbound by the frank handling of the drug.   
  
"Yes," Draco handed it to him for further inspection. "It was one of the first we produced. Father sent me just a few of them."  
  
"And you gave one to me?" he handed the tablet back to Draco and went to sit on the bed. "Why?"  
  
"Yeah," Draco began counting the small white pills and slipping them into individual pouches. "I thought you, of all people, could use the release. And this is our purest and strongest yet. It is so concentrated that we charge a lot more for it."  
  
"And people still buy them?" Neville questioned. "Who here buys them?"  
  
"Here," Draco leaned back in his chair to hand Neville a sheaf of papers. "This is the order list for the past two weeks. Everyone wants the Snitch, regardless of the price."  
  
Neville scanned the pages, his eyes bulging out at the names he saw written there. There was no standard type of person who bought from Draco, he realized. There were rich and poor, Muggle-born and purebloods, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs… hell, every house!   
  
"And you handle all of this?" Neville lowered the list and looked back at Draco, who was tying the pouches shut. "By yourself?"  
  
"Yes," Draco stood and stretched. "The part that takes the longest is delivery and collection. The actual packaging takes very little time."  
  
"And how much do you get to keep?"  
  
"Of the profits?" Draco approached Neville, a spark of interest in his eye. "Twenty percent. I get as much _E_ as I want."  
  
"Hmm," Neville looked down at his hands. "Twenty percent? With an order list like that, I suppose you make a killing."  
  
"Why?" Draco stood in front of Neville, his arms crossed over his chest. "You looking for a job?"  
  
Neville met Draco's eyes, his chin set defiantly. "I imagine my Gran will be disowning me for breaking house."  
  
"All right then," Draco reached out to untie Neville's plain black tie. "I'll cut you in. We'll split the profits. Ten for you and ten for me. Sound good?"  
  
"Just like that?" Neville desperately tried to concentrate on Draco's words rather than his hands, which were pulling the tie from around his neck.   
  
"That's it," Draco assured him, leaning his thighs against Neville's knees, distinctly aware of the reaction he was garnering from the dark boy. "I'll make it known tonight that you are in."  
  
"Great," Neville's hands reached out for Draco's waist, pulling him between his legs. "Shall we seal it with a kiss, then?"  
  
Draco's tongue darted out of his mouth, licking his lower lip as he nodded slowly. Neville slid his hands up Draco's back, gently encouraging him to lean forward. Draco lowered his mouth to kiss Neville lingeringly.   
  
Kissing Draco was sinfully delicious, Neville decided. And he was certain that he never wanted to stop. Those lips were too tempting, too sweet, too yielding. Draco's hands were playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, driving him to a heightened sense of madness.  
  
"Neville," Draco trailed his lips across Neville's cheek to his ear. "I am close to taking complete advantage of you. So, I suggest you push me away now if you are at all opposed to that."  
  
Neville's hands gripped Draco's shoulders and pulled him down on the matress. "You're not going anywhere."

* * *

The light from the window in Draco's room fell across the bed, illuminating Neville's face and bared upper torso. Draco propped himself up on his elbows and watched the rhythmic rise and fall of his lover's chest as he slept. Draco was tempted to drift off to sleep, but a quick consultation of his watch showed him that dinner was in under an hour. He had deliveries to make.  
  
Pulling himself into a sitting position, Draco considered the matter of the House Break. He had been well and truly shocked by Neville's defection from the sainted Gryffindor House. He had, of course, readily accepted Neville as a Slytherin. Anyone who was willing to turn his back on seven years of friendship was _definitely_ a Slytherin at heart.  
  
He was pleased that Neville was with him. He was willing to let it be known that Neville was with him both for business and for pleasure. In fact, he intended to do just that tonight at dinner. He was not one for shows of public affection, but this was different, he told himself quite convincingly. He was simply marking his territory. That's all.  
  
Neville shifted closer to Draco's body, making Draco smile fondly at the sleeping boy. He smoothed the dark hair off of Neville's forehead, thinking that it was fortunate that Neville was a Slytherin now. None of that hideous sneaking off to broom closets or the Astronomy Tower for them—not when there were beds behind locked doors right in their own House.  
  
"Neville," Draco rolled onto his side and kissed Neville on his tanned shoulder. "Time for wakey-poo!"  
  
"Nuh-uh," Neville murmured, burying his face into Draco's neck. "Want to stay in bed."  
  
"I can't blame you," Draco trailed his fingers down Neville's soft chest. "But we have work to do. Come on, get up."  
  
"Oh, I'm up," Neville's eyebrows waggled suggestively, even though his eyes remained tightly shut.  
  
"Cheeky one, aren't you?" Draco laughed and pulled away. He scooted off the bed and began dressing in black trousers and a blue button-up shirt. "Fine, then. I'll go off on my own. Perhaps someone _else_ would be interested in assisting me."  
  
"Fine," Neville sat up instantly at the threat of being replaced. "I'll go with you. But I reserve the right to be grumpy."  
  
"Shut up and get dressed," Draco hid his amused smile from Neville. It would not do to let Neville see how much he enjoyed his wit. "Do you have anything casual?"  
  
"A few things," Neville reached down for the boxers lying beside the bed and slipped them on under the covers before getting to his feet and pattering over to his trunk. He opened the trunk and rummaged around until he found a maroon tee-shirt and tan pants.  
  
"Oh, no no no no!" Draco rushed forward to snatch the shirt from Neville's hands. "You can _not_ wear this!"  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"It is a Gryffindor color! We don't _do _Gryffindork red. Ever. Even under pain of death." Draco tossed the offending shirt into the fire without further comment. He turned to his wardrobe, plucked out a dark green V-neck shirt and tossed it to Neville who was gaping at him indignantly. "Wear this. It will be dramatically symbolic."  
  
"Symbolic of what?" Neville demanded, even as he pulled the shirt over his head. "Of the fact that I am _yours_ or that I am a Slytherin?"  
  
"Whichever," Draco said evasively. "Does it matter?"  
  
"No," Neville stepped into his khaki pants and padded to the mirror to look at his reflection. He was pleasantly surprised to see that the shirt fit him well, if not a little snuggly. The green was very flattering to his skin tone and matched his pants wonderfully. Neville paused and looked at the mirror with narrowed eyes. He waited. "Hey, doesn't your mirror talk?"  
  
"No," Draco came behind Neville, holding a set of robes out for Neville to slip into. "Should it?"  
  
"Well," Neville blushed slightly. "We—the Gryffindors, that is, always assumed that you had a mirror that flattered you ruthlessly. You know, to feed your overlarge ego."  
  
"Oh," Draco wasn't sure if he should be offended or amused. He decided on flippant, just to be safe. "Why would I need a mirror to tell me what I already know?"  
  
Neville watched Draco secure the front of his robes with a silver clasp. This was it. His first time in a Slytherin robe. He stared at the Slytherin emblem over his heart with excitement. The transformation was complete. There was no going back now.  
  
"Well," he spun around to face Draco, his arms held out wide. "How do I look?"  
  
"Very Slytherin," Draco tapped the tip of his nose quickly. "Let's go."  
  
Neville stepped into his shoes and grabbed his wand from the bedside table. He watched as Draco picked up the leather pouches he had separated earlier and stuffed them into his robe pocket. He handed Neville the order list as they entered the Common Room.   
  
Pansy was waiting sitting in front of the fire, waiting for them. She joined them with nod of approval at Neville's appearance and the threesome headed out the door. They would not get far, however, for sitting in their path, directly outside of their entrance, was Ginny Weasley.

Pansy and Draco stood shoulder-to-shoulder, shielding Neville from Ginny, an act that was oddly endearing but also quite ridiculous to Neville.  
  
"What do you want, Weasley?" Draco demanded without preamble.  
  
Ginny did not stand up. Her neck craned back to be able to look at Draco directly. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her cheeks were tear-streaked. When she spoke, her voice was paper-thin. "I need to talk to Neville."  
  
"And what if Neville does not want to talk to you?" Pansy asked, the sweetness in her voice too over the top to be real. "Won't that just break your wittle heart?"  
  
"It's okay, guys," Neville put a hand on his self-appointed guardians' shoulders. "I'll talk to her. Can you give us a few minutes?"  
  
Draco whipped around to give Neville a thunderous scowl. He was not accustomed to being dismissed. The troubled look in Neville's eyes was the only thing that spared Neville from receiving the tongue lashing of his life. Draco nodded stiffly and pulled Pansy down the hall.  
  
With the other two Slytherins gone, Neville offered Ginny his hand, helping her stand. She got to her feet, but kept Neville's hand firmly clamped in her grip.  
  
"Why are you here, Ginny?" Neville prompted softly. "What do you want?"  
  
"I need you to talk to me," Ginny told him. "I need to understand why you did this thing. There is no turning back now."  
  
"I know that," Neville pulled his hand free and leaned against the wall. He took in Ginny's unkempt appearance and worried look with a sigh. "But don't you think it is a bit late to be caring?"  
  
"You never told me you were thinking about breaking house!"  
  
"Of course I didn't," he snapped, making Ginny flinch. "You made it perfectly clear that you did not approve of my friendship with Malfoy."  
  
"Friendship?" Ginny's face screwed into confusion. "Neville, you were kissing him!"  
  
"It doesn't matter at this point," Neville rolled his eyes and pushed away from the wall. "Are we finished?"  
  
"No," Ginny yelled, advancing on her friend. "How _dare_ you turn your back on me! I have been your best friend for five years! I deserve more than this!"  
  
"Do you?" Neville asked her sarcastically. "I have listened to every single one of your 'isn't my boyfriend great' stories, hell, I helped you finally get the git! I helped you with your Herbology. I took you to every single ball we had, just so you could leave me at the punch bowl while you danced with Potte! No, I think _I_ deserve more from _you_."  
  
"Potter?" Ginny's eyes widened in disbelief. "How is it possible that you have changed so entirely in just one day?"  
  
"See, that is what I mean," Neville's dark eyes glittered dangerously. "If you really cared, you would know that I have not changed at all. I am just finally free to live the way I want."  
  
"You want to be a ruthless and spineless Slytherin?" Ginny countered, drawing herself up to her full height, unwilling to back down. "You want to be the scourge of Hogwarts?"  
  
"Leave me alone, Ginny," Neville shouldered past Ginny, turning once he was halfway down the corridor. "And watch what you say about Slytherin. I might not take it as well next time."  
  
Ginny watched Neville round the corner, where she was sure his new housemates had been waiting, eavesdropping. She was furious. Maybe Harry had the right idea after all.

Pansy and Draco were indeed waiting and listening around the corner as Neville and Ginny had it out with one another.  
  
_"Neville, you were kissing him!"_  
  
"Kissing?" Pansy turned to look at Draco with an inquisitive face. "Anything you want to tell me?"  
  
"Well," Draco leaned closer to Pansy, whispering. "Between you, me and the suit of armor, there was a bit more than kissing."  
  
"Oh my god, really?" Pansy elbowed her friend in the ribs for not telling her this tidbit earlier. "I think details are in order!"  
  
"Later," Draco pushed her amiably. "Just listen."  
  
"Draco and Neville sitting in a tree," Pansy sang in a whisper, much to Draco's horror. "_F-U-C-K-I-N-G_…"  
  
"Shut up," he hissed sternly, his broad smile cushioning the blow of his harsh words. "Here comes Neville!"  
  
Neville rounded the corner, colliding directly into Draco. "Ooof—sorry."  
  
"No harm done," Draco held Neville's elbows, steadying him and pulling him closer. He kissed him quickly on the mouth before releasing him. "Let's to dinner!"  
  
"Ah, pretty boy love," Pansy teased, linking arms with the two boys. "So sweet!"  
  
"Sod off," Neville told her conversationally, tucking her arm further into the crook of his arm.

* * *

After dinner, Neville went with Draco to the library, where they sat with a stack of books surrounding them. Neville thought the set up looked rather like the payment counter at Flourish & Blotts.  
  
"What are we doing here?" Neville asked as Draco idly flipped through a book on the fauna of the Amazon. "I mean, besides looking at the pretty pictures?"  
  
"We are making our deliveries," Draco told him, leaning down to look closer at a picture. "And are you mocking my book of choice? It's about plants. I thought you would approve."  
  
"Oh, heartily," Neville assured him with a vigorous nod. "I've read that book several times."  
  
"Anyway," Draco looked as if he did not believe Neville. "It would be too suspicious for me to just show up at the door to each house. I mean, like they'd let me in, right? Can you imagine? 'Knock, knock-- Slytherin calling!' So, I assign each person a time to come meet me here."  
  
"So what am I supposed to do?" Neville leaned back in his chair, a dejected look on his face. "Sounds like you've got everything under control."  
  
"Of course I do," Draco looked surprised that Neville had ever doubted his ability to handle the situation alone. "But I can only schedule them fifteen minutes apart to insure their privacy."  
  
"You actually give a sod about their privacy?"  
  
"Oh no, not me," the look of horror on Draco's face nearly had Neville guffawing out loud. "But they care. They don't want anyone to know their dirty little secret."  
  
"The drugs?"  
  
"No," Draco grinned devilishly. "That they get them from me."  
  
Neville rolled his eyes. "Then we are going to split the list and both make deliveries?"  
  
"Exactly."  
  
Neville looked up as the door to the library opened. Padma Patil looked at the table in the corner warily. She caught sight of Neville and visibly tensed. Before she could turn to leave, Draco held up his hand to beckon her to him.  
  
"Patil," Draco tossed her one of the small pouches. "Two White Snitches."  
  
"What is—" Padma shot a questioning glance at Neville.  
  
"Neville is my new partner," Draco supplied shortly. "He will be your new contact. You will receive instructions as to your new pick up site with your next order."  
  
Padma was so surprised at that information that she turned away from the table without paying Draco. Draco nudged Neville and nodded his head toward the retreating Padma.  
  
"Padma, dear," Neville called out, his voice sounding more confident than he actually felt. "There is the matter of payment."  
  
"Oh, right," Padma hurried back to the table, where she dropped several coins on the table. "Sorry, Neville."  
  
"No harm done," Neville said cheerily, echoing Draco's earlier sentiment. "See you soon. My regards to your sister."  
  
When the library door swung shut, Draco looked at Neville, his grey eyes full of respect. "You are a natural." 

"A natural drug dealer?" Neville laughed ironically. "Gran would be so proud!"

The evening crept past at an alarmingly slow rate. Each delivery brought a newly surprised customer, more coins and, with half of the customers, an announcement that Neville was to be their new point of contact.   
  
At the end of the evening, the pair made their way back to the Slytherin dormitory, their money pouch heavy with coin. Neville was giddy with what he felt sure was power. He liked it and intended to feel it more often. For the umpteenth time that day, Neville sent up a silent prayer of thanks that he had broke house.  
  
"What's that?" Draco stopped in front of the entranceway to Slytherin House, staring down at a small wooden box. He bent to retrieve the box, but stopped when he heard Neville's strangled cry. "What's wrong?"  
  
"That's mine," Neville said softly, going down on his knees. "Or rather, it's Ginny's and mine. We keep pictures and letters and stuff in here."  
  
Draco joined his dark-haired companion on the floor and waited for Neville to remove the top. He noticed that the other boy's hands were trembling when he lifted the lid and dropped it to the floor. Inside the box was a stack of photographs, which Neville distractedly handed to Draco. Beneath the photographs was a royal blue hair ribbon, a silver handled mirror and a small, circular bronze wire.  
  
Neville blinked. He reached out and picked up the bronze wire, looking at it as if he had never seen it before. Draco watched him, unsure what to do or say. Finally, Neville reached into his robe and pulled out his wand, holding it out for Draco to see. Draco looked at it for a moment before seeing what Neville wanted him to see: a bit of circular bronze wire at the base of his wand, just above the handle, identical to that which he held in his hand. Draco knew that the wire was important, but for the life of him, he could not guess why.  
  
"I've got to go," Neville stood up and ran back down the hallway, leaving Draco alone on the floor. Draco put the photographs back in the box, replaced the lid and picked it up. He was pretty certain where Neville was going and that he would want the box kept safe and sound until he returned to claim it. Draco marveled at the trust Neville so easily gave to him.  
  
"Lord," Draco mumbled as he entered the Common Room. "I knew I shouldn't have adopted a Gryffindor."

.

.

.

To Be Continued


	5. The Ties That Bind

**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Author Notes:** **This story contains both SLASH and blatant drug use.** If these themes offend you, please do not read this story!

The characters in this story may seem a little out of character, but give it a chance. Consider this story a "coming of age" tale about the characters developing into adults. I anticipate many flames telling me off for my OOC-ness. So be it.

**This story is COMPLETE. I will post new chapters weekly.**

**On a personal note... Thanks to the TRS gang for your unflagging support.**

Chapter Four: The Tie That Binds

_It would take a wide net to drag that deep, through all the years,_

_The years I believed you_

_And you'd be hard pressed to face the fact of all the lies and the fears that __deceived you_

_You say it doesn't matter now, there's nothing standing in your way_

_But you forgot to mention how you were done with me,_

_It's not your problem anymore..._

_To be true, to be kind, to never walk away_

_And it's true you were blind, no matter what I would say_

_To you, is there nothing sacred, to you_

_"Nothing Sacred" by Jonatha Brooke_

* * *

Ron's head snapped up at the sound of banging on the portrait hole. He cocked his head, waiting for it to stop. When it did, it was only replaced by muffled shouts before the knocking commenced once again. He slowly got to his feet and looked around the Common Room. Harry, Ginny and Hermione were all looking at the entranceway in curiosity, but making no moves to investigate. It had been an emotionally draining day for them all and no one was ready to take on another confrontation.  
  
Ron shrugged his shoulders in resignation and went to the door. He pushed it open and stepped into the corridor, coming face to face with Neville.  
  
"Oh, it's you," Ron crossed his arms defensively. "Did you forget something?"  
  
"No," Neville said wearily and held out his clinched fist, as if it were a peace offering. "I have something of Ginny's. I need to talk to her."  
  
"From what I understand," Ron glared accusingly at his old friend. "You two already had a talk that ended somewhat sourly. Don't you think you've done enough?"  
  
"No, Ron, I need to talk to her," Neville implored, his fist trembling, feeling the wire in his palm cutting into his skin. "She wants me here. She sent me a message. Please. Just get her."  
  
Ron stood in stony silence, measuring the sincerity of his words. He wanted to not believe Neville. He wanted to distrust this boy. But ultimately, he could not. He had known Neville too long to suspect that he meant any harm to his sister.  
  
"All right, fine," Ron pointed a warning finger in Neville's face. "But you've only got five minutes. And if you hurt her again- I'll kill you where you stand."  
  
"Agreed," Neville nodded his head once and stood back, letting Ron re-enter Gryffindor Tower. Less than a minute later, the portrait hole opened and out stepped Ginny Weasley, a vision in gold robes. "Ginny, are you okay?"  
  
"Yes, of course I am," Ginny's eyebrows were knitted in confusion. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Neville relaxed his fingers and held his hand out, palm up for Ginny to see. She looked down at the curled wire in his hand and flinched. She took a step back, her eyes glued on the wire.  
  
"You sent me the wire, Ginny," Neville said softly, closing his fingers around the cool metal once again. "And so here I am."  
  
Ginny was stunned into silence. When she had removed the wire from her wand and put it in the box with the other items Neville had given her over the years, she had not considered that Neville would come to her.  
  
On the night of the Triwizard Tournament's Yule Ball, several years ago, Neville and Ginny had escaped the ruckus of the evening and retreated to the Greenhouse. They had whiled the hours away be sharing secrets each held dear. For Ginny, it was her unrequited love for Harry, which was not so much a secret, but it was certainly the first time she spoke of it to anyone at Hogwarts. Neville had revealed to her that he thought he was gay and unsure how to tell his Gran and friends. They had both cried that night, over their shared misery. But they had also laughed at the fact that they had known each other for years and were only just making a strong connection.  
  
All the while, Neville played with a strip of bronze wire used to tether some of the weaker plants to their posts to encourage their growth. When they eventually got to their feet to go to bed, the sun was creeping over the horizon. Neville put the wire on a nearby table, touching it gingerly one last time.  
  
On impulse, Ginny snatched up the wire and a pair of shears, cutting the wire into two equal pieces. She wrapped one of the lengths around the base of her wand, securing it with a melding spell. She held the other piece out to Neville, indicating he should do the same.  
  
"This wire," Ginny told him seriously. "Will never come off my wand. We are friends for life, Neville."  
  
"For life," Neville wrapped the wire around his wand, smiling. "No matter what."  
  
Over the years, the circular wires became something of an emergency signal. If the wire was delivered to the other, there was something terribly wrong and assistance was needed immediately. Only once had Neville received Ginny's wire. Just once when...  
  
Neville was talking to Ginny, bringing her out of her memories. "What did you say?"  
  
"Has Harry done something to you again?" Neville spoke in a low, secretive voice. "I will kill him if he—"  
  
"No, Neville," Ginny interrupted him quickly. "Harry has not done anything."  
  
"Then, what happened?"  
  
"I was just returning the wire," Ginny whispered miserably, her arms falling limply at her side. "You said to leave you alone. Our friendship is over. I was returning our wire."  
  
"No," Neville shook his head vigorously, shoving the wire at Ginny. "Take it. _Take it back_."  
  
"I can't," Ginny recoiled, as if Neville intended to hit her.  
  
"Why are you flinching from me?" Neville asked in a strained voice. "I have never—I would never hit you. That is _Harry's_ job."  
  
"Stop," Ginny begged, her face still turned from Neville. "You can't come here and say these things. You are not my friend."  
  
Neville was speechless. What had he done? Had he truly made Ginny believe that he was not her friend? It was true that he had gotten caught up in the day, letting his mouth be controlled by his anger. But not be friends with Ginny? That was not what he wanted, Slytherin or not.  
  
"I'm going in," Ginny told him softly.  
  
"Ginny," Neville reached out and grabbed her by the arms. "We are friends. For life. No matter what."  
  
Ginny's face registered confusion. "But you said..."  
  
"I was angry, Ginny," Neville explained, his eyes searching hers for understanding. "I never meant that I was not your friend. How is it that even possible? I love you Ginny."  
  
Neville pulled Ginny forward into a tight hug, burying his face in her soft red hair. He felt her small arms go around his waist and squeeze him with all her might. They stood there, in each other's arms until Ron pushed open the portrait hole to check on them.  
  
"Come on, Gin," Ron called. "Time to come in."  
  
Ginny pulled away and smiled up at Neville, who wiped the tears gently off her cheek. He pressed the small wire into her hand and kissed her forehead. "For life."  
  
"No matter what," Ginny responded.

* * *

Neville took his time in returning to the Slytherin Dungeons. The day was beginning to take its toll on him. He was physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to fall into bed and stay there for several days.  
  
Within the space of one day, he had broken house, been in Dumbledore's office (for the first and hopefully last time), hexed Harry Potter, had ended his friendship with Ginny, had an actual conversation with Goyle (just _wow_), made over a dozen drug related transactions, ate Lemon Meringue (his favorite), had truly remarkable sex and had rekindled his friendship with Ginny. He was absolutely convinced that a stiff drink was in order.  
  
He muttered the Slytherin password ("Better than you") and stumbled into the Common Room. Pansy shot out of her chair and hurried to Neville's side, a concerned look on her face.  
  
"You look terrible," she told him, her hand under his elbow to stop him from falling on his face. "What happened? Did the Gryffindors do something to you?"  
  
"No," Neville ran his fingers through his hair. "Ginny and I made up."  
  
Pansy pulled a face. "Lovely."  
  
"She's not so bad, Pansy," Neville said as he stifled a face-splitting yawn. "You should give her a chance."  
  
"You're clearly exhausted," Pansy latched onto the obvious, not wanting to deal with Neville's Weasley Issues. "Draco is in the bath, but I know the password to his room. Come on."  
  
Neville followed Pansy further into the bowels of the dungeon until they go to Draco's room. She opened the door and escorted him inside.  
  
"What are you doing?" she asked as he dove onto the chaise lounge.  
  
"I can't just take his bed," Neville yawned again. "I can't imagine he'd like sleeping on the chaise, as comfy as it may be."  
  
"I can't imagine Draco ever sleeping on that thing," Pansy laughed softly. "Get into the bed."  
  
"Okay," Neville fell unceremoniously onto the bed. "But when he gets mad, I am so blaming you."  
  
"Deal," Pansy pulled off Neville's shoes and placed his wand on the bedside table. "_If_ Draco is angry, you can blame me."  
  
Neville nodded and the rolled onto his side, falling instantly to sleep. Pansy drew the heavy curtains over the enchanted wall window and made sure the fire was stoked. Casting one last look at her new friend, she left the room. _Draco angry, indeed._  
  
When Draco entered his room, refreshed from his bath, he was pleasantly surprised to see Neville sprawled out on his bed. He had secretly feared that Neville would not be returning that night, if at all. Gryffindor loyalty was a hard habit to break.  
  
It looked as though Neville had been too knackered to do anything more than fall onto the mattress. His robes—actually, _Draco's_ robes—were twisted and bunched under his body in such a way that Draco figured must be disturbing the flow of blood to his extremities. Draco shucked his bathrobe, leaving him in just a pair of black silk pajama bottoms, before padding over to the bed. He bent down and unhooked the snake brooch holding Neville's robes shut. Working quickly, he managed to remove the robe from one of Neville's arms, but he had to shake him gently awake to assist with freeing the other.  
  
"Malfoy?" Neville sat up sleepily, allowing Draco to remove his robes and shirt.  
  
"Draco," Draco corrected him softly, pushing him back on the pillows as he began to unbutton the other boy's trousers. "My name is Draco."  
  
"Draco," Neville twisted his hips to help in the removal of his trousers. "Dra-co. Draco. _Draaaaaa_-co."  
  
Draco smiled as Neville continued to experiment with the feel of the name.  
  
"It sounds a bit formal," Neville commented, rolling on his side to face Draco. "Didn't your parents ever call you anything else?"  
  
"Not my father," Draco sat down on the bed, his hand resting on Neville's hip. "My mother had a nickname for me."  
  
"Was it 'Honey Bunny'?" Neville asked with a sleepy chuckle.  
  
"No," Draco trailed his hand down Neville's body, stopping in the crook of his bent knee. He was so taken with the dark beauty. "Why, was that yours?"  
  
"Yes," Neville reached out to touch Draco's thigh. "My mother. She called my father 'Other Honey Bunny'. Or at least, that is what Gran says."  
  
Draco's brow creased at the mention of Neville's absent parents.  
  
"What did your Mom call you?" Neville prodded.  
  
"Dragon," Draco told him, leaning forward to kiss his closed eyes. "Now, go to sleep."  
  
"Are you coming to bed?"  
  
"Yes," Draco stood and drew the covers over Neville before walking to the other side of the bed. He lowered himself delicately into the bed and reached out to pull Neville against his chest.  
  
"Good night," Neville snuggled closer to Draco. "Dragon."  
  
Draco closed his eyes, a general sense of happiness flooding his entire self. "Good night... Honey Bunny."

* * *

The next morning, a stately brown owl made a great show of circling the Great Hall once before swooping down to the Slytherin table. Neville was not surprised when a red Howler bearing his name landed in his plate.  
  
"Well," Draco put down his fork and grimaced, knowing without a doubt that Neville's formidable Gran had sent the missive. "Let's see what the ol' battleaxe has to say."  
  
"No, I don't think so," Neville slipped his wand from his robes and pointed it at the Howler. "_Incendio_!"  
  
The Howler gave an almighty wail before being reduced to a small pile of ashes on the table. Neville serenely leaned forward and blew the ashes across the table.  
  
"Ye gods," Draco gaped at Neville in astonishment. "I had no idea you could _do_ that!"  
  
Neville picked up his coffee and sipped it thoughtfully. "Neither did I."  
  
The pale Slytherin threw back his head and laughed loudly. Several heads in the Great Hall turned to watch Hogwarts' Most Nefarious howl with laughter as Neville stonily drank his morning beverage.

* * *

A month passed without notable incident. It was true that there were Gryffindor/Slytherin squabbles. It was even true that some of those squabbles were a direct result of the House Break. More remarkable than the squabbles, however, was the subtle shift in power that was taking place in Slytherin House.  
  
It was an accepted fact that Neville was Draco's right hand man and lover. The boys had never even bothered to move Neville out of Draco's private room. If any of the Slytherins felt that the situation was inappropriate, no one ever said—after all, who was going to question the Slytherin leader?  
  
Neville had adjusted to his new house quickly. He was in an instant favorite and mentor to the junior students due to his quick smile and kind words. At first, the Sixth and Seventh years respected him based on his now infamous House Break and his alliance with Draco. Over time, they came to view him as an equal and even as a friend.  
  
Neville, as it turned out, was a natural leader. He was always a little to the side of the attention when Draco was in the room, but when Draco was absent, he effortlessly commanded center stage. It was not uncommon for him to sit in one of the tall back chairs in the Common Room, answering questions, resolving in-house disagreements or simply chatting with his new housemates. He was the assumed Second-In-Command to Draco's Rule.  
  
Draco observed the ever-blurring lines between the power he held and the power Neville held with a keen eye. He saw that they were becoming a joint entity. Whereas he and Neville were both strong on their own, together they were invincible. Draco saw the arrangement as utterly agreeable. There was never a moment, in Slytherin House, that control was not held by at least one of the boys. He knew it was only a matter of time before the whole of Hogwarts viewed them as a force to be reckoned with. All he had to do was wait.  
  
"Here," Neville handed an envelope sealed with the Longbottom family seal in black wax to a small Slytherin boy who was passing through the Common Room. "Take this to Ginny Weasley. Wait for a response."  
  
The boy looked thrilled to be chosen for the errand and scampered off, clutching the missive tightly to his chest.  
  
"You know," Draco looked at Neville from over the book he was reading. "You could have used our owl for that."  
  
"Yes, but then I'd have to go all the way up to the Owlery," Neville pointed out with a mischievous raise of his eyebrows. "And really, what is the point when dear Gareth was more than happy to deliver it for me?"  
  
"Is that his name?"  
  
Neville rolled his eyes. He had given up on Draco ever knowing the names of the underclassmen.  
  
"Really, HB," Draco continued, his voice full of playful censure. "You are quite drunk with power."  
  
"Oh, really?" Neville stretched out on the couch and laid his head in Draco's lap, grinning up at him. "You're one to talk, Dragon."  
  
"And you are lucky that you are so adorable," Draco dropped his book in order to run his slender fingers through Neville's dark locks. "I'll let that comment slide. You know, I've killed men for less."  
  
"Whatever," Neville closed his eyes, relaxing under Draco's caress. Lying in Draco's lap was one of Neville's new favorite past times. No matter how bad his day had been, everything just slipped away when Draco's fingers touched his hair.  
  
Draco leaned his head back and closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of silk between his digits. He knew that it relaxed Neville, but he wondered if Neville knew how much it relaxed him as well. He let his mind drift into thoughtlessness when he heard Neville's breathing deepen, which was a sure sign that he was sleeping.  
  
Just as Draco was joining Neville in peaceful slumber, Gareth returned, stumbling and out of breath. Draco's head craned around to shush him, but he was stopped by the look of fear on the small boy's face. "What is it?"  
  
"Weasley," Gareth gasped, his hand pressing into his chest. "Weasley—"  
  
Neville's eyes had snapped open at the mention of 'Weasley'. He jerked up right to question his messenger. "What about her?"  
  
"She's in the hospital wing," Gareth managed to croak between breaths. "She—"  
  
Neville and Draco were on their feet, running for the exit before Gareth could continue.  
  
"Find Pansy," Draco barked over his shoulder. "Tell her where we've gone."  
  
Neville's heart was pounding as he threw open the door to the infirmary. He instantly spotted Harry, Ron and Hermione hovering over a bed in the far corner. He paused long enough to let Draco reach his side. Clasping Draco's hand tightly for support, he strode across the room.  
  
"What happened?" he demanded the moment he was within earshot of the bed where Ginny lay motionless on her back, her right arm propped up on several pillows. "Ginny?"  
  
"Bugger off," Harry growled, moving to block Neville's path to the bed. "You don't belong here."  
  
"I'm not leaving until I see Ginny," Neville told him firmly.  
  
When Harry did not budge, Neville stepped closer to Harry, their chests nearly touching. "Did you do this, Potter? Did you put her here?"  
  
Harry's green eyes flashed angrily. He closed the centimeter separating them, his chest pushing against Neville's in challenge. "Watch your mouth, Longbottom."  
  
"Mark my words, Potter," Neville's voice was low and threatening. "If I find out that you hurt her, you will be dead before you get the chance to hit the floor."  
  
"You don't have the strength to take me down," Harry hissed. "You worthless Squib."  
  
"But _I_ do," Draco spoke for the first time from behind Neville. "And do not doubt our sincerity, Potter. We _will_ hurt you."  
  
"Isn't that precious?" Harry spat, his face flushing in anger. "You've got your Malfoy trained."  
  
"Watch it, Potter," Neville grit out between clenched teeth.  
  
"Hey, Malfoy," Harry shifted his glare to Draco's scowling face. "Since when do you give a fuck about Ginny?"  
  
"Hey, Potter," Draco mimicked without skipping a beat. "Since when do you _not_ give a fuck about Weasley?"  
  
Harry lunged at Draco, but Neville caught him by the waist and shoved him back towards Ron and Hermione, who yelped in surprise. Harry leapt at Neville with a primal cry, knocking the slightly smaller boy to the ground with a thud.  
  
"Harry!" Hermione dashed into the fray, latching on to her friend's arm as it rose to smash into Neville's face. "Stop! _Stop_!"  
  
"_Do it_," Draco calmly drew his wand, stepped forward and jabbed the tip of the wood into the pulse point in Harry's neck. "I _dare_ you."  
  
Ron grabbed Harry's other arm and helped Hermione pull him off of Neville. Draco kept his wand ready and his eyes trained on Harry as he stooped to offer Neville a hand.  
  
"What is the meaning of all this?" Madam Pomfrey burst into the room with a tub of salve in her hands. "Mr. Malfoy, explain yourself!"  
  
"Potter attacked me," Neville explained from his spot on the floor. "Draco stopped him before he could hex me."  
  
Madam Pomfrey surveyed the scene before her with an experienced eye. Harry was being restrained by his two friends while Neville was being helped up by his comrade. As loathe as she was to admit it, it did seem as though Harry was in the wrong.  
  
"Mr. Potter, out," Madam Pomfrey snapped her fingers and pointed to the door. "You too, Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley."  
  
"Why do they get to stay?" Harry asked petulantly. "She's _my_ girlfriend. And Ron's sister!"  
  
"Because Miss Weasley asked for them," Madam Pomfrey said in exasperation. "During her exam, she requested that I send a note to Mr. Longbottom."  
  
Neville looked very smug. Straightening his robes, he approached the bed. Draco remained in place, watching the Gryffindor trio being bustled from the room by the no nonsense mediwitch.  
  
"Ginny," Neville stroked the sleeping girl's face gently, scanning her features for injury. Her hand seemed to be the only thing damaged.  
  
"She won't wake," Madam Pomfrey told him, coming to the other side of the bed. "I gave her a sleeping draft to soothe her nerves."  
  
"What happened?" Draco asked as he slid his wand back into the pocket of his robes.  
  
"To my understanding," Madam Pomfrey folded her hands in front of her, gazing down at the fragile girl on the bed. "Miss Weasley caught her hand in the potions room door. She broke several metacarpal bones and phalanges."  
  
"How in the world did that happen?" Draco was incredulous. You would have to be a right dolt to close your hand in that heavy door, and Ginny was no dolt, of that he was certain. "Did anyone see it?"  
  
"Professor Snape was in his office at the time," the nurse told him. "He heard her scream and brought her to me."  
  
"And Potter?" Neville asked, his shoulders tense, voice strained. "Where was he?"  
  
"As it happens," Madam Pomfrey continued sadly. "He accompanied Miss Weasley and Professor Snape. He had been passing by the corridor to the dungeons when the accident occurred."  
  
Neville kissed Ginny's forehead gently and turned to Draco. His dark eyes were glittering, black as coal.  
  
_Danger_. Draco thought with a shiver. _Neville is dangerous. Merlin help anyone who thinks otherwise_.  
  
"Come on," Neville said to Draco as he passed by his pale boyfriend. He paused to press his Slytherin brooch into Madam Pomfrey's hand. "Will you give this to Ginny when she wakes up?"  
  
"Yes, of course," Madam Pomfrey was perplexed. She had anticipated Neville demanding to stay by Ginny's bedside throughout the night. She could not figure why he was leaving so abruptly, but was pleased that she would not have to fight with the boy to leave.  
  
Draco and Neville encountered Pansy in the corridor.  
  
"What's going on?" she questioned, her face pink from her hurried pace to reach them. "Gareth said Weasley was injured."  
  
"She's banged up, a few broken bones," Draco told her, gripping her arm and urging her to walk with them. "It was Potter."  
  
"Potter?" Pansy exclaimed, looking from Draco to Neville. "Wait, what are you two planning on doing?"  
  
"Hurt him," Draco told her quickly. "Maim him. Kill him. We'll figure out the particulars when we get to that bloody tower."  
  
"You can't just stroll up there and kill him," Pansy stopped in her tracks, forcing Draco to stop with her. "We are talking about Saint Potter. You just can't do it."  
  
"We bloody well can," Draco fumed, affronted that his capability to kill was being questioned.  
  
"Okay, fine," Pansy placated. "You are fully _capable_ of doing it. You just _shouldn't_ do it."  
  
"Why not?" Draco whined with a quirk of his lips. He knew that realistically, they could not storm the Gryffindors and expect them to give up Harry Potter.  
  
Pansy rolled her eyes and plunked her hands on her hips. "Is this really helping Weasley?"  
  
"Fine," Draco jogged to catch up with Neville, who had continued walking when the others had stopped. "HB, wait."  
  
"Don't try to stop me, Draco," Neville turned but continued to take backward steps. "I have to go up there."  
  
"We will get him," Draco soothed, reaching out to grasp his boyfriend's hand. "We have to bide our time. Strike when he least expects it."  
  
"_Where_ he least expects it," Pansy added. "We could—"  
  
"Burn his broom," Neville said suddenly, bringing a deafening silence over the group. "Let's burn the Firebolt."  
  
"What?" Draco thought he could no longer be surprised by Neville. He was clearly wrong. "But HB—that's—that's..."  
  
Pansy's mouth formed a small _O_ as she watched her old friend circle his hand in the air, searching for an appropriate word. It was a rare and historic event: Draco Malfoy was at a loss of words.  
  
"Diabolical?" Pansy suggested helpfully.  
  
"Yes," Draco snapped his fingers and pointed at Pansy as if she had just invented a way to rope the moon. "Diabolical. And _wrong_. You would actually burn a man's broom?"  
  
"Absolutely."  
  
"And by 'wrong'," Pansy fished, hoping that Draco was just suffering from a temporary insanity thereby rendering him momentarily un-evil. "You mean...?"  
  
"Oh, I only meant that it was wrong that I did not come up with that years ago!" Draco assured her. "It will kill him! Yes, burning Potter's broom is definitely a Malfoy Approved Plan."  
  
"Thank the stars," Pansy pressed the flat of her hand to her chest, looked relieved. "For a moment there I thought you had developed a conscience."  
  
Draco gasped loudly.  
  
"Oooooh," Neville pulled a comically horrified face. "Pansy said the 'c' word."  
  
"You will so pay for that one, Parkinson," Draco pulled out his wand and waved it threateningly at his housemate. "Take it back this instant. Or I shall turn your lovely blonde hair teal."  
  
"You wouldn't!" Pansy's hand flew up to her long golden locks.  
  
"Want to bet?"  
  
Pansy's eyes widened at the confident smirk on Draco's face. She began taking slow steps away from Draco. When she was out of arms reach, she turned and in a swirl of robes, took off running. "You'll have to catch me first, you Goody Two Shoes!"  
  
"How dare you!" Draco howled at the insult. He ducked his head down and chased after Pansy. "Come back here, you scalawag!"  
  
Neville sighed. He was getting used to Draco and Pansy's impulsive play fights. They were wildly entertaining. He scurried down the hall after them, momentarily forgetting his rage. "You two are _such_ children!"

* * *

**A/N: Feed the starving writer with reviews! Thanks to everyone who is reading and most espeically thanks to everyone who is reviewing!**


	6. Consequences

**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Author Notes:** **This story contains both SLASH and blatant drug use.** If these themes offend you, please do not read this story!

The characters in this story may seem a little out of character, but give it a chance. Consider this story a "coming of age" tale about the characters developing into adults. I anticipate many flames telling me off for my OOC-ness. So be it.

**This story is COMPLETE. I will post new chapters weekly.**

* * *

Chapter Five: Consequences  
  
_I've got no patience now  
So sick of complacence now  
Sick of sick of sick of sick of you  
Time has come to pay...  
Know your enemy!_

_"Know Your Enemy" by Rage Against the Machine_

* * *

The night was alight with a million stars, providing the Slytherin Trio with enough light to make their way to the Quidditch pitch without a Lumos spell. All Quidditch brooms were stored in a common closet in between games. One would think that there would be danger in such practice, but there was an unwritten rule and understanding between Quidditch players: **brooms are sacred**.  
  
But Neville Longbottom was no Quidditch player.  
  
The dark Slytherin waited by the broom shed as Draco unlocked the door. Once inside the shed, it was quick work to locate the Firebolt as it was the only one of its kind on the Hogwarts's grounds. Neville picked it up and carried it outside, where Pansy and Draco were waiting. He threw it to the ground with force and drew out a small box of matches.  
  
"I thought we'd do it the Muggle way," Neville explained to a raptly staring Pansy and Draco. "They won't be able to pin it on us if we don't use magic."  
  
"You're really going to do it, then?" Pansy asked breathlessly, obviously nervous.  
  
Neville did not respond, but stooped and placed the lit match on the long, straight twigs at the end of the broom. Instantly, the kindling sparked and blossomed into a cheery blaze.  
  
Draco was helpless to prevent himself from gasping at the sight of the flaming broom. He had always wanted a Firebolt, so it disturbed him to see one being so callously destroyed. If it had been his, he would surely be out for blood.  
  
Of course, it was Harry Potter's broom. Draco smiled broadly.  
  
"Should we say a few words for the dearly departed?" Pansy asked sarcastically.  
  
"Fuck no," Neville snorted, never taking his eyes from the Firebolt, which was beginning to crumble beneath the flames. "Burn, baby, burn."  
  
"Hey, we might actually win the Quidditch Cup this year," Pansy declared happily. "He won't have enough time to get a new one, will he?"  
  
"Doubtful," Draco opined happily. "Not a decent one anyway."  
  
"When do you think he will see it?" Pansy asked.  
  
"We have a potions exam on Wednesday," Neville said. "I bet he won't see it until that afternoon."  
  
"Right," Draco laughed softly. "The Gryffindors are mentally incapable of focusing on two things at the same time. They won't practice until Wednesday afternoon, possibly Thursday."  
  
"And the match is on Saturday morning," Pansy supplied. "They don't practice nearly as much as they did when Wood was here."  
  
"That's because Potter is so smug," Draco squatted on his haunches, warming his hands over the crackling fire. "He is so sure that no one can beat him."  
  
"Well, then, it's about time the Gryffindors fell, don't you think?" Neville stepped on the burning carcass of the racing broom to stamp out the fire. "That should do it. I want it to be recognizable when Potter finds it."  
  
The two boys scooped up the smoldering pieces of the broom while Pansy collected the ashes. They were diligent to place the remains in the exact same location from which they had removed the Firebolt.  
  
"I tell you, the past is a bucket of ashes," Pansy sprinkled the ashes over the arrangement. "Now is the time for a Slytherin Victory."

* * *

Ginny's stay in the hospital wing only lasted one day. Madam Pomfrey was able to mend her bones without any difficulties. Upon her return to the general population, her first order of business was to seek out Neville.  
  
She waited until after dinner to seek him out in the library where, to her dismay, he was meeting up with his "customers" to make his deliveries. She waited at a table near the door until Susan Bones exited before winding her way to the back of the room. Neville had his head bent, making marks on his delivery list when Ginny rounded the corner. She approached silently and dropped the pin Neville had left for her during her convalescence on the table. It hit the wood with a muffled _pling_.  
  
"Ginny!" Neville jumped to his feet and hurried around the table to hug her close. "How are you doing?"  
  
"I'm fine," Ginny hugged him back briefly before pushing out of his arms. "Madam Pomfrey made me good as new!"  
  
"You know that we need to talk about this," Neville told her seriously. "About Harry."  
  
"Yes," Ginny sighed ruefully. "I need to explain a few things to you. And to Malfoy and Pansy."  
  
"When?"  
  
"Can I come down tonight?"  
  
Ginny's presence in the Slytherin Common Room was far from an anomaly. She had been welcomed into their fold after Neville had stood by her and insisted that they leave her be. Ginny was reminded of a king addressing his peasants. They did his biding without questioning the reasons behind it.  
  
"Yes, of course," Neville consulted his pocket watch. "I should be out of here in about half an hour. Give me an hour, okay? Someone will let you in."  
  
"Okay, I'll be there," Ginny kissed Neville's smooth cheek and then left the library, passing Professor Trelawny on her way out. "Good evening, Professor."  
  
An hour later, Ginny was settled into the black leather armchair in front of the Slytherin fire, regarding her three Slytherin friends as they sat side by side on the couch in front of her. They looked like children waiting for discipline from their mother, she thought fondly. Had you told Ginny a year ago that she would have not one, but three Slytherin friends she would have laughed you out of the room. But there it was: she was a fourth to the Gryffindor trio and a fourth to the Slytherin trio. _Funny how life works out sometimes._  
  
"You three need to understand Harry," Ginny began warily. It was important to her that they know the truth. She knew that if she did not explain things, something sinister was going to transpire. "I want you to listen. And don't interrupt me."  
  
"Gryffindors are _so_ bossy," Draco complained.  
  
Neville elbowed him in the ribs and gestured for him to keep silent. Draco shot his boyfriend a scowl for good measure, but held his tongue.  
  
"Harry is a great person," Ginny said, tucking her feet under her. "Neville, you know that from your time at Gryffindor. He was always kind to you."  
  
Neville made a slight inclination of his head, although his face remained impassive.  
  
"Harry has been through a lot," she twirled her red-gold hair around her fingers as she talked. "When he defeated Voldemort last year, he changed. He is under a lot of pressure. And it is true that he has a horrendous temper. But never—not even once-- has Harry hit me on purpose."  
  
Draco bit his lip in order to refrain from commenting.  
  
"He hasn't," Ginny insisted, rubbing her recently injured wrist unconsciously. "There have been a couple of accidents, but really, they have been just that."  
  
Neville sighed in exasperation.  
  
"He gets so frustrated," Ginny explained desperately. "And you all know how expressive he is. And when he gets overwhelmed, he strikes out."  
  
Pansy shifted in her seat. She wanted to speak so badly.  
  
"And he always strikes out at inanimate objects. Not me," Ginny's eyes clouded over with tears. She could see that her friends did not believe her. "Like this time—Harry and I were working on his potions project. And he got upset because he couldn't get it. He stormed out and was going to slam the door, but you know how Snape is! Harry would have gotten in so much trouble. I tried to stop the door from shutting. And my hand got caught."  
  
Neville raised his eyebrows, considering Ginny's sincerity. She firmly believed what she was saying, that much he could tell. But was it true? He wanted to believe her. He wanted to believe that Harry was intrinsically good and could be trusted with his best friend.  
  
"What about the time you 'fell down the stairs'?" Neville questioned gently.  
  
"I did just fall down the stairs," Ginny nodded vigorously. "You never did believe me, but that is what happened. Harry had pulled some portraits from the wall and I tripped over them."  
  
"You can't expect us to believe that tripe," Draco lifted a perfectly sculpted eyebrow in disdain. "I mean, honestly, Weasley."  
  
"Can you get your hands on some _Veritaserum_?" Ginny asked, her eyes narrowing on Draco. "I'll take it and then you can ask me anything you want."  
  
"Even what color your panties are?" Draco asked blithely, using his old familiar friend, Humor, to mask his surprise at her offer. "I've always wondered: Hearts or Snitches?"  
  
"Draco, really," Pansy rolled her eyes and elbowed Draco in the ribs. "Ginny are you willing to swear that your story is true?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Neville exchanged a resigned look with Draco, who was rubbing his abused side dramatically and Pansy. They had no choice.  
  
"Okay, fine," Neville held up his hands in surrender. "We believe you. Harry is not abusive. You love Harry. Harry loves you. Everyone is happy."  
  
"And you won't kill him," Ginny prompted, her eyes stern.  
  
Neville pursed his lips to prevent a smile from crossing his features. "And we won't kill him."  
  
"Damn," Draco muttered, heartbroken. "Denied."  
  
Pansy elbowed him in the ribs.

* * *

"Get up, Malfoy," Harry's deep voice sounded from behind Draco as he nibbled on a piece of bread. "Get up _now_."  
  
Draco set his bread on his plate and dabbed the corner of his mouth with his napkin before turning to look at Harry serenely. "Can I help you?"  
  
The rest of the Slytherin table, including Neville and Pansy, fell silent and watched the encounter, bodies tensed and ready to strike.  
  
Harry tossed a dusty piece of u-shaped gold onto the table, upsetting several plates of food and glared down at Draco, pure hatred emanating from his entire being. Draco did not spare it a glance. He knew what it was—the leg rest from the Firebolt. Neville leaned slightly so that his shoulder was touching Draco's.  
  
_Ah, so he found it._  
  
"I knew you were a ruthless bastard," Harry spat, more venom in his voice than the wizarding icon previously thought possible to feel. "But I thought you at least had a passing respect for Quidditch. You burnt my fucking broom."  
  
"I resent the implication," Draco said tersely, not bothering to get to his feet. "And unless you have proof, I suggest you bugger off."  
  
"I've told McGonagall," Harry told him, smiling vindictively. "You'll be expelled for this."  
  
Draco felt Neville twitch. He shifted, pressing into Neville firmly, although it appeared as if he was merely turning more fully to face Harry's angry eyes. "Prove I did it, and I will leave willingly."  
  
"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall intoned as she approached the scene. "You will both follow me."  
  
Draco squeezed Neville's hand once in assurance before rising and following Professor McGonagall out of the room. Neville turned to Pansy with wild eyes.  
  
"It's okay," Pansy soothed, turning back to her food in a great show of normalcy. "Don't react. Everyone is watching. They won't find anything if they do a _Priori Incantatem_, remember?"  
  
Neville nodded and stabbed at his food with his fork. His eyes slid to the now closed door leading out of the Great Hall. How could he not worry? It was not as if McGonagall was an impartial judge when it came to the Gryffindor Seeker.  
  
Professor McGonagall handed Draco's wand back to him. She did not trust him and likely never would, but the _Priori incantatem_ could not lie. Draco had not used his wand to set the fire that destroyed Harry's Firebolt. She, of course, thought it was entirely possible that he had employed some other method to do it. If _Veritaserum_ was not illegal, she would not think twice about using it in this situation.  
  
"But Professor," Harry cried out in protest. "He did it! You know he did it!"  
  
Draco smirked confidently.  
  
"Yes," McGonagall sighed, making Draco's smirk falter. "I am sure that he did it. But I cannot prove it."  
  
"Ha," Draco blurted, making Harry gurgle with anger.  
  
"But," she held her hand up to silence them both. "The situation is too serious to ignore. Mr. Malfoy, you will be sent home for a week."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You are suspended from these grounds for one week," McGonagall peered over her glasses at Draco, a flash of pleasure in her eyes. "You will leave tomorrow. Your parents will be here in the morning to collect you."  
  
Harry was hugely satisfied, despite the crushing loss of his broom. Brooms could be replaced, but the look of surprised fury on Draco's face—Harry almost thought the loss was worth it.  
  
"Go directly to your Common Room," McGonagall continued, getting to her feet. "You are restricted to Slytherin house until your parents arrive. Am I understood?"  
  
"Clearly," Draco hissed, standing. His lips drew back from his teeth in a feral show of rage before turning on his heel and storming from the room.  
  
Draco made his way to down to the Slytherin dormitory, full of choler. He could not believe that he was being sent home like an errant child. Granted, he was errant, but she definitely lacked proof of _that_ salient point!  
  
He spat out the password and when the portal did not open as quickly as Draco thought that it should, he kicked it ferociously. Those in the Common Room who did not know Draco well, sat in paralyzed fear. Those who did know him well, fled to their dormitory rooms in great haste. Draco did not spare either group a look as he went to his own room.  
  
"Draco," Neville leapt from the desk chair and went to him, seeing and dismissing the thunderous look on his face. "What happened?"  
  
"I've been suspended," Draco went to the mantelpiece, picked up one of the black candles and threw it against the charmed window with an almighty roar. "I'm being sent home!"  
  
"What?" Neville exclaimed as Draco picked up another candle. "But there is no proof!"  
  
"There is no proof," Draco assured him as he pelted the window with the second candle, feeling greatly gratified by the sound of it crashing into the stone wall. "But that cow is suspending me anyway."  
  
"How long?"  
  
"One week," Draco looked around for something else to throw. "One fucking week."  
  
Neville paled. He had not been separated from Draco for more than two hours at a time since he broke house. He did not want to be without Draco. _No, no, nonononononono... _"Can't your father do anything?"  
  
"No, Neville," Draco raked his fingers through his impeccable blond hair. "He doesn't hold as much power now that You-Know-Who is gone."  
  
Neville flinched. They had never spoken about Voldemort before. And they had certainly never talked about the Malfoy family's involvement in the Dark Lord's rise to power or defeat.  
  
"I will go home," Draco told him, some of the fury gone from his voice. The punishment was unfair, but Draco knew it was not to be helped. "I will go home and spend my time looking for ways to kill that four-eyed bastard."  
  
"Let me tell McGonagall it was me," Neville suggested.  
  
"No, absolutely not," Draco stood before Neville and took his hands. As unfair as the punishment was, Draco would accept it without further complaint. He fervently needed to protect Neville. "They will expel you. The only reason I have not been expelled is because they cannot find proof that I actually did it. But if you go in and confess, you will be before you can blink twice."  
  
Neville knew he was right. One did not simply confess to burning Hero Potter's broom and expect to get off with a slap to the wrist. Neville bowed his head, sadness invading his heart.  
  
"I don't want you to go," Neville whispered, squeezing Draco's hands tightly. "I'll be lost without you."  
  
"You won't be lost," Draco disagreed, tugging on his hands. "But you will have to take over all of the deliveries while I am gone. I'll leave everything you will need."  
  
"I have not been away from you, not even one day," Neville looked up, meeting Draco's cool grey eyes. "I don't know what to do without you."  
  
"Come on, HB," Draco pulled Neville into his arms, soothing him with sweet words. "I will be back before you have time to miss me. You'll have the whole bed to yourself. Just think, no one to fight with over the duvet."  
  
"I _like_ fighting with you," Neville muttered, wrapping his arms around Draco's waist. "And I will miss you before the carriage door closes."  
  
"And I will miss you, but come on," Draco forced Neville to take several backward steps toward their bed. "Let's not waste the night exchanging weepy declarations and flowery vows."  
  
Neville bumped into the bed and went toppling back onto the mattress. He looked up at Draco who was unbuttoning his shirt. "I am neither weepy nor flowery."  
  
"Then call it a preemptive strike," Draco smiled as he dropped his shirt to the floor. He crawled onto the bed, straddling his boyfriend. "Or a proper goodbye."  
  
Neville tried to ignore the sad ache in his chest as Draco kissed him. He was terrified, for the first time since leaving Gryffindor. He was not sure that he could handle the Slytherins on his own. He _was_ sure that he needed Draco in order to be strong.

* * *

"Draco," Pansy called through the closed door to the boys' room. "Your father is here."  
  
Draco reluctantly pulled away from the soft mouth he had been kissing, causing Neville to whimper and tighten his hold on Draco's shoulders. The two Slytherin boys had spent a sleepless night together, neither wanting to consider their inevitable separation. At first light, they had dressed, but then crawled directly back into bed.

"Come on, HB," Draco gently extracted himself from Neville's embrace. "I want you to meet my father."  
  
"Oh, I don't think that is a good idea," Neville released Draco and stood up, burying his hands deep into his trouser pockets, a sure sign of his nervousness. "I mean, really, who are you going to tell him I am?"  
  
"I thought I would go with 'Hi, Dad. This is my boyfriend Neville," Draco picked up his cloak and turned to the door. "Now, come on."  
  
Neville rolled his eyes at his boyfriend. "Are you _ever_ serious, Dragon?"  
  
Draco grinned and ushered Neville into the hallway to join the waiting Pansy. The threesome walked in silence to the Common Room, where Lucius Malfoy was waiting. The elder Malfoy was leaning against the mantelpiece, surveying the room with a nostalgic look in his eyes.  
  
"Hello, Draco," Lucius pushed away from the mantel and approached the group of Slytherins. He eyed Neville curiously for a moment. "You must be the famed and much lauded Mr. Longbottom, who broke with his house to be a Slytherin. Good show, my boy."  
  
Neville's breath caught in his chest. He had no idea what to say.  
  
"Dad," Draco caught Neville by the arm and hauled him to his side. "This is my boyfriend, Neville."  
  
Lucius raised his eyebrows and blinked. "Really?"  
  
Neville felt all of his blood rushing to his face. He made a mental note to kill Draco at the earliest opportunity. Beside him, Pansy snorted, clearly enjoying his pain. He added her to his List.  
  
"Yes," Draco confirmed happily, nudging Neville fondly. "_And_ he is the mastermind behind the broom burning incident."  
  
"Really?" Lucius face lit up like the tip of a wand after a Lumos spell. He offered Neville his hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Neville. A real pleasure."  
  
"Thank you, sir," Neville pumped Lucius' hand firmly. "Likewise."  
  
"Shall we go?" Lucius picked up his walking stick and made a sweeping gesture. "Neville, walk with us?"  
  
Draco hurriedly hugged Pansy. "Watch after him."  
  
"Of course," Pansy kissed his cheek. "He will be fine. Enjoy your break."  
  
Draco took Neville's hand and followed his father out of the Slytherin dungeons. Just as they reached the Entrance Hall, Lucius broke the easy silence. "So, which one of you actually set the fire?"  
  
"I did, sir," Neville volunteered immediately, wanting to spare Draco any punishment that might await him at home. "I tried to tell McGonagall, but Draco would not hear of it."  
  
"Did you?" Lucius turned to regard the dark boy clinging to his son's hand. Draco certainly could have done worse. "And Draco still took the blame?"  
  
"They would have expelled Neville," Draco explained quickly. "And they had already convicted me, based on nothing but conjecture. There was no actual evidence."  
  
"Naturally," Lucius sighed dramatically. "Every 'evil' thing that has ever transpired at Hogwarts has historically been blamed on a Malfoy."  
  
"Was any of it ever true?" Neville questioned, intrigued by the possibility that the Malfoys had been pigeonholed into their current reputation.  
  
"Oh, all of it is true," Lucius waved his hand imperially. "All excepting the meatloaf and, of course, this broom thing."  
  
Neville laughed, taken back by Lucius' wit. He had always assumed, thanks to Gryffindors horror stories, that Malfoy Senior was a humorless and heartless git.  
  
When they reached the Malfoy carriage, sitting just outside of the castle, Lucius once again shook Neville's hand.  
  
"Neville," the older Slytherin clapped the younger on the shoulder warmly. "I do hope you will join us at the Manor this summer."  
  
"Yes, sir," Neville nodded, thinking how improbable that he should be invited to Malfoy Manor for dinner let alone an entire summer. "I would enjoy that very much. Thank you."  
  
Lucius bowed in respectful farewell before stepping into the carriage, leaving the two boys alone to say their goodbyes.  
  
Draco wound his arms around Neville's neck and pulled him close. "Just one week, HB."  
  
"If this wasn't goodbye," Neville whispered into his lover's ear. "And if your father was not watching us—I would cheerfully kill you over that little display in there."  
  
"Oh, but he knows that I am gay," Draco chuckled. "I guess I forgot to mention that, huh?"  
  
"Yes, yes, you did," Neville kissed Draco's neck quickly and pushed him away. "Now get out of here before I get 'weepy and flowery'."  
  
Draco backed up the carriage stairs, his eyes staying on Neville's until he pulled the door shut. Once inside, he settled himself and then cracked the blind over the window, looking once again at Neville, who was holding his hand in the air, waving morosely.  
  
"You like this boy?" Lucius asked, watching his only son smiling wistfully out the window.  
  
"I do," Draco sighed helplessly and leaned back in his seat. "He is very—_something_."  
  
"Ah, how well I remember that feeling," Lucius tapped his snake-tipped cane on the floor of the carriage, remembering. "When I met your mother, I could barely breathe for a solid month. I started to think that seeing stars was quite normal."  
  
"And Mother?" Draco queried, his interest peaked by this new insight into his parents' life and love. "Did she see stars?"  
  
"Oh, no," Lucius chuckled and shook his head ruefully. "She was decidedly _not_ impressed by my advances. She had her sights set on the Ravenclaw prefect—Patrick Adderly. Merlin, but I hated that man."  
  
"Then how did you win her over?"  
  
"Ah, well, Adderly was a year above us," Lucius grinned. "He graduated and moved to the Americas as an ambassador for the Ministry. Your mother was bereft. I was there to offer her a steady shoulder on which to cry and a clean handkerchief with which she could wipe her eyes. I guess I eventually wore her down."  
  
Draco laughed heartily. Try as he might, he simply could not envision his father as a lovesick Lothario.  
  
"And now you tell me," Lucius leaned forward and swatted his son playfully on the leg. "How goes it with you and Neville? Seeing stars?"  
  
"All is well," Draco told him, happily. "I never imagined that I would actually find someone in school who suited me so well. He is, of course, from an old, pure-blood family. And he is smart too, but no one really knows that. Herbology is his specialty, but he is gaining strength in his wand work. We've been dueling for practice. And he is the perfect blend of kind and cruel. I don't know why in the world he was ever sorted into Gryffindor. And Neville..."  
  
Lucius smiled inwardly, listening as his son continued to sing Neville's praises. He had never heard his son speak so unreservedly. Love, he thought, was blooming underneath Draco's excited words.  
  
"...instead of our owl," Draco paused, coloring at the realization that he had been babbling.  
  
"Ah, I see," Lucius settled back into his seat, sensing that Draco was embarrassed by his outpouring. "You look exhausted, which is giving you a grey pallor. Why don't you try to rest? Your mother will worry herself sick if you show up looking like the dead."  
  
"I could do with a kip," Draco yawned and closed his eyes. He was quite tired, as he and Neville had done everything short of sleeping the night before. He relaxed into the gentle swaying of the carriage, wondering what Neville was up to.  
  
Neville, for his part, had returned to his bedroom in the Slytherin dungeons and had fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep. He awoke some hours later to the sound of loud banging on his door. He rolled out of the bed, landing on his feet and grabbing his wand. He was momentarily disoriented by the fact that Draco was not by his side with his wand at the ready. His dark eyes scanned the room, and only when he noticed that there was only one trunk in the room did he remember that Draco was not at Hogwarts. His heart gave a lurch.

"Neville," a loud voice joined in the banging. "Open up!"  
  
Neville stumbled to the door and yanked it open, his mood as black as night. "What?"  
  
"We've won!" Vincent Goyle was yelling in his face, jumping up and down in a way that made the large boy look like a baboon. "We've won the Quidditch Cup!"  
  
"We won?" Neville shook his head, realizing for the first time that he had slept through that morning's Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match. "Gryffindor lost?"  
  
"They lost!" Vincent howled in ecstasy. "You should have seen Potter's face when Patil caught the Snitch! We are up by twenty points! We've won!"  
  
Neville felt a surge of pride on Draco's behalf, followed directly by a great sadness that he was not there to enjoy the news. Neville knew that winning the Cup for his final year on the Slytherin Quidditch team had been a dream for Draco. And now, here it was, a Slytherin victory.  
  
"What do we do?" Vincent rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Should we have a party?"  
  
"No," Neville shook his head, knowing that Draco should be at any celebratory party for this occasion. "We will celebrate though. Send someone down to the kitchens to bring up some cakes and pumpkin juice. We will have a real party on Saturday, when Draco returns."  
  
"Excellent," Vincent bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement before turning to go deliver the decree to the waiting Slytherins. "Order up some cakes! The real party will wait for Draco!"  
  
A loud roar of approval took Neville by surprise.  
  
_I am in charge._

__

* * *

**As always, thanks for reading!**


	7. Arms of the Angel

**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

The lyrics for "Blue Like That" were written by Shawn Colvin.

**Author Notes:** **This story contains both SLASH and blatant drug use.** If these themes offend you, please do not read this story!

The characters in this story may seem a little out of character, but give it a chance. Consider this story a "coming of age" tale about the characters developing into adults. I anticipate many flames telling me off for my OOC-ness. So be it.

**This story is COMPLETE. I will post new chapters weekly.**

**WARNING: Severe Angst ahead. Seriously. The next chapter is actually worse. Sorry in advance.**

* * *

Chapter Six: Arms of the Angel 

_Give me one reason to stay here - and I'll turn right back around__  
__Give me one reason to stay here - and I'll turn right back around__  
__Because I don't want leave you lonely__  
__But you got to make me change my mind__  
  
__"Give Me One Reason" by Tracy Chapman_

* * *

Harry sat on Ginny's bed, his arms crossed over his chest, looking very much like a pouty child. He glared at Ginny's back as she fussed with her hair.  
  
"I cannot believe that you are going to a Slytherin party," Harry fairly whined. "And without me."  
  
"Oh, is that the problem?" Ginny turned away from the mirror, a condescendingly sweet smile on her glossed lips. "Did you want to come, honey?"  
  
"Of course not," Harry snapped, horrified. "Have you actually lost your mind, Gin? Me! At a Slytherin soiree. That's rich!"  
  
"Oh, Harry," Ginny laughed and went to drape her arms around her boyfriend's shoulders. "I'm just going for a couple of hours. You'll play chess with Ron and I'll be home before the stroke of midnight."  
  
"And you actually _want_ to go?" Harry uncrossed his arms and let them rest lightly on her hips, eyeing her suspiciously. "I mean, they haven't hit you with an _Imperius_ have they?"  
  
"Yes," Ginny ignored the jibe at the questionable reputations of her Slytherin friends and kissed Harry's nose. "I _want_ to go. It is important to Neville that I go."  
  
"Neville, Neville, Neville," Harry sighed dramatically, leaning in to kiss the hollow of Ginny's neck sweetly. "I swear, I hear more about that sod now that he is in Slytherin than I ever did with him underfoot."  
  
"Harry," Ginny warned. There was a fine line between gentle teasing and outright meanness. "Don't."  
  
"Fine, fine, go," Harry tilted his face so that his girlfriend could kiss him goodbye. "But tomorrow, you are all mine. No Slytherins. Hell, no Gryffindors. Just you and me."  
  
"Deal," the petite red head hugged Harry tightly, wildly pleased that he wanted to be alone with her for a full day. Whenever she began to doubt his love, he always managed to reassure her. How could she have doubted that Harry was anything other than a good man? "I love you, Harry. I really do."  
  
"I love you, too, Gin," Harry pushed her out of his arms with a smile. "Now, get out of here. Go be Slytherin if you must."

* * *

Neville smoothed the front of his new robes in an attempt to soothe his frayed nerves. Draco would be returning from his weeklong suspension in a matter of minutes. Just in time to enjoy the Slytherin Celebration, already in progress.  
  
His robes, ordered especially for the occasion, were the exact green of the Slytherin Quidditch robes, but instead of thick wool, they were made from raw silk. A thin cord of silver trimmed the edges and hem of the robes. A small silver and red dragon was embroidered over the heart area. He hoped that Draco liked them.The week without Draco had been quick but intense. From the very first day, he noted that the Slytherins naturally looked to him for leadership in Draco's absence. He was surprised that he had not stumbled beneath the pressure, but instead had stepped up as if he had always been in charge. He was, indubitably, powerful and influential. His word was law. And he reveled in the feeling.  
  
It was _him_ the Slytherins surrounded as they moved between classes. When they went to eat, it was Neville who signaled the start of the meal—just by lifting his fork. Most surprisingly, it was Neville that the other houses feared. They skirted around him during classes and gave him wide berth in the corridors. It was almost as if they feared him, as if he had given them reason to cower beneath his steady gaze.  
  
It was true that he had had to take a few drastic measures to collect on some overdue accounts, but surely they debtors expected retribution. Had those who had suffered under Neville's punishment told their friends who was responsible for their bruises? Or was it possible that Neville now exuded danger and power in his very being? Whichever, he did not care.  
  
The former Gryffindor inhaled deeply, pride seething through his skin, making his face glow. He had survived without Draco. Finally, he had proven himself worthy of the name Slytherin and, more importantly, he had proven himself worthy of Draco.  
  
Neville turned away from the mirror, picked up his wand and a pouch containing several White Snitches, sliding both into his pocket. It was time.  
  
He entered the Common Room, but stayed unobtrusively against the wall, surveying the room. Loud, thumping music permeated the room, which was already filling with witches and wizards from various houses. The ceiling had been enchanted to show a scene of exploding lights. Twinkling fairy lights hung over the doorways, providing the only source of constant light, casting an eerie glow around the room. Several leather couches had been moved into the room, lining the walls that normally housed study desks. Near the hallway leading to the dormitories, the Quidditch Cup sat, gleaming proudly.  
  
Students were pouring into the room from three entrances: from the girls' dormitories, from the boys' dormitories and through the portrait hole. Select students from the other three houses had been invited, and not one had dared to refuse the invitation. As a result the room was peppered with awed Ravenclaws, clueless Hufflepuffs and scared-but-would-rather-die-than-show-it Gryffindors. Neville smirked.  
  
"You did great," Pansy commented, coming to stand beside Neville. "Draco will be pleased."  
  
Neville nodded vaguely, his eyes glued on the door leading into the Common Room from the outside hallway, watching for any sign of his returning lover. Pansy took up sentry next to him, chewing absently on her lower lip. She had missed her best friend and was desperate for his return.  
  
"Who are we watching for?"  
  
Neville spun around, his face breaking into an unaffected smile of joy. "Draco!"  
  
Draco opened his arms to catch Neville who threw himself forcefully at the blond. He wrapped his strong arms around Neville and lifted him off the floor, enjoying the feel of his lover's body against his own.  
  
Suddenly, the week did not seem so cumbersome. All of Neville's nerves melted away as his face found the familiar crook of Draco's graceful neck. The room, it seemed to the pair, faded into a field of blackness where only Draco and Neville existed; their embrace set to the soundtrack of their pounding hearts and ragged breaths.  
  
"So glad—"  
  
"You're back—"  
  
"Don't let—"  
  
"Won't—"  
  
"So much—"  
  
"Me, too—"  
  
"Dance—"  
  
"With you—"  
  
"With you—"  
  
Draco began pulling Neville to the center of the room. The crowd parted like the Red Sea as they passed. Someone, sensing the seriousness of their countenance, hastily changed the music pulsing throughout the room to a softer ballad.  
  
_Today we took a walk up the street __  
__And picked a flower and climbed the hill __  
__Above the lake_  
  
They swayed in time with the music, their bodies moving inexorably closer to one another. Dark and light, coming together. So right.  
  
_And secret thoughts were said aloud __  
__We watched the faces in the clouds __  
__Until the clouds had blown away_  
  
Pansy smiled, watching as the room became still, serious. Every set of eyes was on the boys. It was as if a spell had been cast, freezing them all, forcing them to witness this touching and momentous scene.  
  
_And were we ever somewhere else __  
__You know, it's hard to say_  
  
Neville leaned his forehead against the Draco's. Brown eyes locked on grey, no words sullying the moment.  
  
_And I never saw blue like that before __  
__Across the sky __  
__Around the world __  
__You've given me all you have and more __  
__And no one else has ever shown me how __  
__To see the world the way I see it now __  
__Oh, I, I never saw blue like that_  
  
Draco slid his hands down Neville's silk covered arms, seeking out the boy's smooth hands. Their fingers laced together, palm to palm, soul to soul.  
  
_I can't believe a month ago __  
__I was alone, I didn't know you __  
__I hadn't seen or heard you're name __  
__And even now, I'm so amazed __  
__It's like a dream, it's like a rainbow, it's like the rain_  
  
Neville tilted his head, rolling away from Draco's forehead, his lips descending slowly to Draco's for their first kiss of the night. Draco's eyes closed with a flutter of lashes.  
  
_And some things are the way they are __  
__And words just can't explain_  
  
The room exhaled a deeply wistful sigh as Draco pulled Neville's arms around his waist, their finger still locked. Draco was the absolute picture of surrender with his arms trapped behind his back.  
  
_Cause I never saw blue like that before __  
__Across the sky __  
__Around the world_  
  
Neville felt as if he was falling. Draco was making love to his mouth, in front of most of the school. It was a declaration. It was a consignment. It was wonderful.  
  
_You've given me all you have and more __  
__And no one else has ever shown me how __  
__To see the world the way I see it now __  
__Oh, I, I never saw blue like that before_  
  
Draco pulled his mouth away from Neville's, leaning forward so that their cheeks were touching. "I love you."  
  
_And it feels like now, __  
__And it feels always, __  
__And it feels like coming home_  
  
Neville bowed his head, quick tears springing to his eyes.  
  
_I never saw blue like that before __  
__Across the sky __  
__Around the world __  
__You've given me all you have and more __  
__And no one else has ever shown me how __  
__To see the world the way I see it now __  
__Oh, I, I never saw blue like that before_  
  
"I love you, too."  
  
_Oh, I, I never saw blue like that_

* * *

"How long have they been at this?" Ginny asked Pansy as she sipped on her fourth Butterbeer of the evening. "I haven't been able to say hello yet."  
  
Pansy followed Ginny's eyes to Draco and Neville, who were bumping and grinding against each other in the middle of the room. Despite the fact that the floor was wall-to-wall people, it was easy to pick out the incontrovertible leaders of Slytherin House.  
  
"They came off the dance floor for a drink about an hour ago," Pansy told her, smiling wryly. "I think they took a White Snitch. They'll be at it for hours."  
  
"Oh," Ginny's brow creased in concern. _There goes Neville's promise to stay away from drugs._ "Do they do this often? The drugs?"  
  
"No. In fact, this is the first time I've seen Draco rolling since the Yule Ball," Pansy confided as she put her drink on a nearby surface. She turned to the girl beside her and set a sly smile on her face. "But why are we talking about them? This is a party. Let's... party."  
  
"Okay," Ginny nodded tentatively. She let Pansy take her drink and set it down.  
  
"Let's dance."  
  
The Gryffindor girl, who was on the drunk-side of the Sober Line, let her waifish friend pull her into the tight knot of sweating, dancing students. They chose a spot close to Draco and Neville and began dancing.  
  
Within moments, Ginny let the music invade her senses, removing the last remaining shards of her inhibitions. She gyrated and jumped and thrashed until sweat was pouring down her face. The heat was unbearable. She paused in her dancing long enough to unbutton her robes and toss them over the heads of the dancing throng to one of the couches surrounding the dance area, leaving her in a short, gray pleated skirt and a white cotton tee-shirt.  
  
Pansy eyed her white knee socks with interest.  
  
Draco and Neville approached the pair of dancing girls, both holding tankards of Butterbeer. Neville handed his to Ginny, who drank it down greedily.  
  
"Whoa," Neville laughed when she handed him back the empty mug. "You are going to be so drunk!"  
  
"Too late," Ginny threw her arms up in the air and turned back to Pansy, who had her back against Draco's chest, dancing with her eyes closed. "Hey, you stole my partner, Malfoy!"  
  
"Shall we share?" Draco suggested, his blond hair plastered to his head, yet still looking distressingly better than everyone else in the room. He threaded his arms through Pansy's and reached for Ginny.  
  
Ginny gasped out loud as she was yanked forward, her chest banging against Pansy's. She nearly lost her balance, but Neville's strong arms steadied her by her waist. She turned to look at her best friend questioningly. He smiled reassuringly and then stepped closer, bringing his chest to her back.  
  
Her head swam with music and beer and images. She felt four more hands touch her body as she began to move in the tangle. Her face was barely centimeters from Pansy's throat and she fancied that she could see the other girl's pulse moving beneath her skin.  
  
Hands. Hands, everywhere. Hands touching her face, _Draco's_ hands, tilting her chin up. And lips, soft, soft lips coming down on hers. Ginny let her eyes close, enjoying the gentle yet insistent caress. It was maddening, the tenderness, the slowness of the kiss.  
  
Ginny's arms came up to grasp the person closest to her—Pansy. She felt the weight of Neville shift slightly to one side. She dared to open her eyes. She saw her best friend and his lover, leaning over her shoulder, kissing each other hotly.  
  
_Oh my god._  
  
Ginny focused her drunken mind long enough to recognize the fact that she was kissing Pansy Parkinson. And that the realization caused quite a heady rush. She felt Draco's hands drop away from her face and yet the kiss continued.

* * *

Hermione hurried down the stairs from the girls' dormitory, her eyes scanning the Common Room for any sign of Ginny. It was nearly sunrise and the young Gryffindor had not yet returned from what Harry had described as "a Slytherin cesspool masquerading as a party". The bushy-haired girl held her dressing gown closer to her body and stepped out of the portrait hole to consult with the Fat Lady.  
  
"Good morning, Hermione," the Fat Lady chirped gaily. "It's a bit early for you lot to be up and about!"  
  
"Yes, it is," Hermione stifled a yawn. "Could you tell me if Ginny Weasley has returned?"  
  
"No, dear," the painting shook her head slowly.  
  
Hermione wiped her eyes with the heel of her hands, wondering what to do next.  
  
"But," the Fat Lady interrupted her thoughts, making Hermione jump. "I did talk to Viola, the handmaiden, who had been visiting with Count von Hügenstein. She said that she and the Count were going for a leisurely stroll around the castle when they came upon a bawdy house. Viola reported that young Miss Weasley was acting most peculiar."  
  
"Peculiar?" Hermione repeated.  
  
"Yes, quite," the Fat Lady adjusted herself into a more comfortable position for sharing gossip. "You see, it seems that Miss Weasley has a penchant for other young witches!"  
  
"What?" Hermione blinked, unsure of what she was hearing. "Witches?"  
  
"Oh, yes," the Fat Lady nodded, pleased as punch that she was the first—well, technically the third—with the information. "Viola said that she was very entangled with Miss Parkinson of Slytherin. With both of her boy watchers close at hand."  
  
"Oh, my," Hermione blurted out the password ("Everything's dandy"), causing the Fat Lady to swing forward abruptly. "Thank you!"  
  
Once back in the confines of Gryffindor Tower, Hermione sat on the couch. She was torn. Should she wake Harry and send him after his girlfriend, who might be in serious trouble; or did she trust that Ginny was making her own choices and would return safely? The brilliant young witch had been burnt by Neville's willing affiliation with Draco. At first, Hermione had thought that Neville was being coerced or even blackmailed. But when she saw Neville and Draco together now, she knew that nothing could be further from the truth.  
  
What if it was the same with Ginny? It was true that Harry was her best friend, but wouldn't it be best for him to learn now that Ginny was not interested in him for the long haul? Wouldn't it be better for Ginny to be where she wanted to be instead of where she was expected to be?  
  
Hermione did not want to answer either question. She leaned her elbow on her knees and stared into the fire. _In 60 seconds, I will get up and either go up to my room or Harry's._  
  
Hermione closed her eyes and counted, much slower than she normally would, to sixty. _5...4...3...2... 2... 1..._  
  
She stood, calmly, knowing that her instincts would take her down the best, most logical route.

* * *

The room was hot and muggy. A few people continued to dance in the middle of the room, but the majority of the revelers were sprawled out on the sofas or on the floor. Some were sleeping, some were talking quietly; others had found themselves a partner and were snogging.  
  
On one of the couches, Neville sat on Draco's lap, kissing his boyfriend leisurely. They were coming down from their roll and they were both exhausted, but neither could bear the thought of sleeping just yet. They were too ecstatic about being reunited to worry about sleep!  
  
Beside them on the couch, Ginny was stretched out on top of Pansy, both girls sleeping. Pansy's right hand was tucked into the waistband of the other girl's short skirt, the left hand lightly touching Ginny's hip. Ginny, for her part, had her face buried in the crook of Pansy's pale neck, her arm casually resting on Pansy's chest, a lock of Pansy's golden hair thread through her fingers.  
  
A pounding on the wall outside of the Slytherin portrait hole made several of the students jump, including Draco and Neville. The group closest to the entrance turned to look at Neville for guidance. The sleepy but still in charge boy nodded and gestured for the group to investigate.  
  
"It's 4:30," Neville commented as they waited to see what the commotion was. "I guess we should send everyone off to bed."  
  
"Thank you for the party, Nev," Draco yawned largely. "I think this will go down in history as the best Slytherin party of the year! Everyone was happy, no major issues, Pansy got some action—"  
  
As if following the cue of Cruel Fate, the group of Slytherin investigators returned, with an armed Harry Potter in tow. Neville's eyes flicked instantly to Ginny, who was still sleeping.  
  
Draco felt his boyfriend tense and was ready to follow his lead. Neville quickly got to his feet and stood in front of Ginny and Pansy. Draco jumped up and stood shoulder to shoulder next to Neville, attempting to shield the two girls from view.  
  
"I don't believe you were on the guest list, Potter," Neville said by way of greeting. "And even if you were, you are way beyond fashionably late and are bordering on down right rude!"  
  
"I would not be here if you did not have something of mine," Harry shot back, his wand clenched in his hands. "And once I retrieve it, I will be leaving once again."  
  
"We don't have anything of yours, Potter," Draco growled, incensed at the reference that Ginny was a belonging. "Now, get out."  
  
"Where is Ginny?" Harry ignored Draco entirely, his eyes still fixed on Neville. "I am taking her home."  
  
"No," Neville told his former friend quietly, his voice firm. "She will return to Gryffindor Tower when she is ready."  
  
"I don't think you understand," Harry raised his wand, pointing it at Neville's chest. The Slytherins who were awake clambered to their feet at this threat on their leader. Harry caught their movement out of the corner of his eyes. "Tell your henchmen to get out of here or I will hurt you. Badly."  
  
"No," Neville said again.  
  
"Tell them to leave," Harry turned slightly, aiming his wand at Draco. "Or I will hurt _him_ badly."  
  
Draco shook his head at Neville who had tensed visibly. "No, Neville, he hasn't got it in him."  
  
"Haven't I?" Harry asked, threateningly.  
  
"Everyone go," Neville barked to the room. "Now."  
  
The Slytherins quickly scurried down the stairs into the dormitories, casting worried glances over their shoulders. The few remaining Hufflepuffs ran from the room, out the portrait hole. The only stragglers were those too far into drunken slumber to have been woken by Neville's command.  
  
"Happy now, Potter?" Draco hissed. "Now there is no one around to witness your cowardice."  
  
"Cowardice?" Harry cocked his head, considering. "How am I a coward?"  
  
"We have not drawn our wands," Draco pointed out evenly. "You have threatened us, but you will not let us defend ourselves?"  
  
"Neville couldn't defend himself if he wanted to," Harry chuckled at his barb. "There is no need to defend yourselves if you just stand aside—as I realize that neither of you have budged from your current positions. I assume that it is Ginny you are shielding."  
  
Neville's chin set in determination. He had been practicing his dueling skills with Draco, but he was nowhere close to being able to defeat Harry Potter, the bloody Saviour of the bloody world. Of course, he might have still stood a fighting chance had it not been for the fact that the Ecstasy was still coursing through his veins. He was on the way down, but it was still very difficult for him to concentrate. And concentration, as any wizard worth his salt would tell you, is imperative in a duel.  
  
"Neville is perfectly able to defend himself," Draco said with more conviction than Neville felt was warranted. Draco had to know that was not necessarily the truth. "Can't you, Nev?"  
  
"This is ridiculous," Harry exhaled sharply, flicking his wand impatiently. "Stand aside or I'll--"  
  
A feminine sigh stopped Harry mid-threat. He sprang forward and shoved Neville to one side, creating a hole through which he could spy his long time girlfriend, wrapped around Pansy Parkinson, sleeping with a smile on her face. It took Harry a few moments to realize what he saw. He took in the positioning of Ginny's body and the placement of Pansy's hands. Finally, he noticed the hair that encased Ginny's fingers. The girls were twined together in much the same way that Harry and Ginny often were—as lovers. Shocked, he stumbled back to his original position.  
  
Draco snatched his wand from his robes and pointed it at Harry. "I suggest you leave."  
  
"This is your fault," Harry yelled at Neville. Ginny shifted against Pansy. "Draw your wand."  
  
Neville fumbled for his wand, feeling the confidence he had built up over the past months crumbling like the great wall of Jericho. He could not win, of that he was sure. He finally held his wand in his hand, but he still felt unarmed.  
  
"No!" Ginny shrieked from her place on the sofa, sitting up abruptly. Pansy's eyes flew open. "Harry, no!"  
  
"It's time Neville remembers his place," Harry growled.  
  
"Hurt him, Potter," Draco's eyes were wide and anxious. "And I swear—"  
  
"_Expelliarmus_," Harry pointed his wand nonchalantly at Draco, sending the blond sprawling. He bent and retrieved the wand at his feet. "Boy, you sure are easy to take out."  
  
"Oh, no," Pansy scrambled from under Ginny and fell to the floor, crawling over to Draco. "Potter, you _idiot_."  
  
"Pansy?" Neville, catching the note of worry in Pansy's voice pushed Harry aside and went down on his knees at Draco's side. "What's wrong?"  
  
Pansy jammed her index and middle fingers against the pulse point in Draco's neck. Her face twisted into horror. "Go get Madam Pomfrey!"  
  
Ginny leapt from the couch and dashed a bit unsteadily out the portrait hole.  
  
"What is it, Pansy?" Neville repeated, frantically. He cupped Draco's face in his hands and shook him gently. "Wake up, Draco. Get up."  
  
"The disarming spell," Pansy rasped. "You aren't supposed to use that when you are on Ecstasy. Expelliarmus speeds up your heart when it hits you. Like adrenalin. But when you're rolling, your heart rate is already fast. It can ki—"  
  
"No," Neville yelled, startling Pansy. "Don't say it!"  
  
Harry stood over the scene, not understanding what was transpiring. Draco was still on his back, his arms thrown wide apart. His face, in Neville's hands, was smooth and peaceful. He had knocked plenty of people out with his disarming spells. He was, after all, one of the most powerful wizards of the day.  
  
"Hurry, Ginny," Pansy whimpered miserably, gripping Draco's hand in hers. "You'll be okay, Draco. You'll be fine."  
  
Several unbearable minutes later, Ginny returned with a flustered Madam Pomfrey who was still in her nightcap. The mediwitch went to work immediately on Draco, barking orders to the four students in attendance.  
  
"Potter, go fetch Dumbledore. Password is Nummy Yummies. Weasley, hand me that stethoscope. Parkinson, help me get his robes off. Longbottom—you just sit tight."  
  
Neville sat, his fingers touching whatever part of Draco he could reach as Madam Pomfrey worked feverishly. He was so tired. All he wanted to do was lay down next to Draco and sleep until the world returned to normal.  
  
Minutes later, Madam Pomfrey sat back on her haunches, her face grim. She looked at Professor Dumbledore, who was rushing into the room, his wand out and ready. "Headmaster..."  
  
"No," Neville whispered. "Don't say it."  
  
"I'm sorry, Headmaster," the frazzled Madam Pomfrey said sadly.  
  
"No," Neville laid down, the top of Draco's head cradled against his chest. "Please don't say it."  
  
"Malfoy is dead."

* * *

* * *

****

**A/N: Yes, yes, I know. I killed him. I'm sorry. Really, The Story made me do it.**


	8. Haunted

**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Author Notes:** **This story contains both SLASH and blatant drug use.** If these themes offend you, please do not read this story!

The characters in this story may seem a little out of character, but give it a chance. Consider this story a "coming of age" tale about the characters developing into adults. I anticipate many flames telling me off for my OOC-ness. So be it.

**This story is COMPLETE. I will post new chapters weekly.**

**WARNING: SEVERE ANGST. That is all.**

* * *

****

Chapter Seven: Haunted  
  
_The Mississippi's mighty, but it starts in Minnesota__  
__at a place where you could walk across with five steps down.__  
__And I guess that's how you started--like a pinprick to my heart,__  
__and at this point you rush right through me and I start to drown.__  
  
__And there's not enough room in this world for my pain.__  
__Signals cross and love gets lost and time past makes it plain,__  
__of all my demon spirits I need you the most.__  
__I'm in love with your ghost__  
  
__Dark and dangerous like a secret, it's whispered in a hush.__  
__When I wake the things I dreamt about you last night make me blush.__  
__And you kiss me like a lover, and you sting me like a viper,__  
__I go follow to the river, play your memory like the piper.__  
  
__And I feel it like a sickness how this love is killing me.__  
__But I'd walk into the fingers of your fire willingly. __  
__And dance the edge of sanity--I've never been this close.__  
__I'm in love with your ghost__  
  
__Oh, unknowing captor, you'll never know how much you pierce my spirit__  
__I can't touch you--can you hear it?__  
__A cry to be free, or I'm forever under lock and key as you pass through me.__  
  
__Now I see your face before me; I would launch a thousand ships __  
__to bring your heart back to my island as the sand beneath me slips.__  
__As I burn up in your presence and I know now how it feels__  
__to be weakened like Achilles with you always at my heels.__  
  
__And my bitter pill to swallow is this silence that I keep__  
__that poisons me, I can't swim free, the river is too deep.__  
__Though I'm baptized by your touch, I am no worse at most.__  
__I'm in love with your ghost_

_   
  
__"Ghost" by the Indigo Girls_

* * *

The rain was relentless, coming down in sheets, blurring the world into a surreal vision of misty gray. There was a large crowd in attendance. It was, all things considered, the social event of the season. The young Malfoy heir was dead, slain by Harry Potter, the very one who saved the wizarding world from the clutches of evil.  
  
The mourners consisted of friends of the family, the Hogwarts faculty, the entire population of Slytherin House (both past and present) and business associates of Malfoy Enterprises. Even Ginny Weasley was there, gripping Pansy's arm tightly. All of the attendees huddled under individual umbrellas while glancing nervously at the ever-darkening sky.  
  
The ebony casket containing the remains of Draco Malfoy sat under a black awning to protect it from the rain. At the foot of the casket, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy stood, holding each other, tears streaming down their faces. The casket was closed, at the request of Narcissa, who could not bear to see her son's emotionally void face.  
  
At the opposite end of the casket, just outside of the protective awning, stood Neville Longbottom, his dark hair plastered to his head, rain rolling down his face. The Malfoys had tried to persuade Neville to stand with them under the shelter, but Neville had shook his head resolutely.  
  
Neville's arms hung limply at his side, his eyes fixed unblinkingly on Draco's final home. He hated that black box. He hated it for having what was rightfully his. His hope, his love, his truth were mere moments away from being buried beneath the earth forever.  
  
Neville shivered, but not from the freezing rain or biting wind. His body and soul ached for Draco. He wanted to crawl into that hated box and be buried alongside his love. How could he go on without Draco? Where would he go? Why would he go on? He had anticipated living his life with Draco by his side. And now, he was alone. He hated that black box. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He wanted to fall down dead.  
  
A rumble of thunder rolled over the funeral procession, causing the crowd to shift nervously.  
  
Neville had run out of tears the day before. His body had lost the capability to form them. He had not eaten or had so much as a sip of water since the night of Draco's sudden demise. He had, in fact, not spoken one word since the pronouncement of death in the Slytherin dungeon. He had no words for the searing pain that was coursing through his soul, and there were no thoughts that contained anything as important as his pain. Everyone had tried to get him to speak or eat, but he only shook his head or walked away. He wanted his pain. Draco was dead and he survived. He needed his pain.  
  
He became dimly aware that the officiating wizard was addressing him from underneath the shelter, although Neville could not process the words being said. The somber wizard stepped into the rain with a long, slender box in his hands. The man held it up for Neville, who looked down at it without accepting it. There, nestled in a bed of emerald velvet, was Draco's cherry wood wand. The rain promptly saturated the fabric and began to fill the box. The wizard pushed it toward Neville, insistently, his lips forming words (_Take it, son_).  
  
Neville reached into the box and took the proffered wand. A rush of living energy surged through Neville, sparking a fresh wave of welcome but unexpected tears to spill from his dark eyes. Draco's wand, Draco's energy.  
  
The wizard stepped back under the awning, his robes already drenched, and ended the ceremony by inviting the mourners to return to the warmth of Malfoy Manor. The group moved as a phalanx and began the trek across the large lawn to the Manor, which loomed large and impressive before them.  
  
Lucius opened a large umbrella bearing the Malfoy crest and guided Narcissa into the rain. As the couple passed Neville, who had not moved since accepting Draco's wand, Lucius stopped and looked at him. Neville looked horrid. There were dark circles under his eyes, several small cuts on his cheek stood out against his abnormally pale skin. And he was shivering violently, from the cold or from grief, Lucius did not know. He had wanted Draco's lover by his side during the funeral, but Neville had steadfastly refused. It was as if the miserable boy was taking comfort in the cold, hard rain.  
  
Lucius laid a gentle hand on Neville's thinning shoulder. Neville flinched and shrank away from Lucius' touch. Narcissa exchanged a confused glance with Lucius, but Lucius dutifully dropped his hand, not wanting to increase Neville's discomfort.  
  
"Stay here as long as you like," Lucius said, his voice rough with tears. "I have told them not to—they won't—"  
  
Lucius swallowed convulsively, unable to force the word "bury" from his lips. He could not fathom the thought that his beloved son would soon be under the earth, a feast for the worms.  
  
"I will see that they give you as long as you need," he finally said. "Come up to the house when you are ready. Narcissa and I would like to talk to you."  
  
Neville nodded jerkily, his wide eyes still fixed on the sleek black box holding his lover's body. He could not look at the surviving Malfoy man. The resemblance between father and son was too great, and looking at that familiar face would serve no purpose other than further crushing Neville's heart.  
  
Lucius moved to pat Neville's shoulder, but thought better of it. He sighed heavily and began the long walk back to the Manor, leaving Neville alone in the rain.  
  
The day slipped away before the Malfoys could scarce believe it. The people who had come to express their sympathies had long ago departed, leaving Malfoy Manor eerily quiet. Lucius compulsively opened the cupboard in the foyer to look at Draco's broom and Quidditch equipment, recently sent to them from Hogwarts. Narcissa stood by the window in the drawing room, her head bent, not wanting to look out at the Malfoy Cemetery. Before today, it had been one of her favorite places on the property. She would often walk there, running her hands along the carved letters on the tombstones, remembering each person's history or legend. She knew now that if she ever went back, it would be to sit by her son, and that thought tore her to shreds.  
  
A bright light caught her eye and she looked out the window. The magical light that was set to trigger upon complete darkness had come one. Narcissa had been the one to insist upon a light. It was sad to her that the tombs should ever be in total darkness.  
  
"Lucius," Narcissa called out urgently. "Come here! Look at this!"  
  
Lucius shut the cupboard door and went to his wife with worried eyes. She gestured to him to look out the window. He squinted into the darkness, silently cursing the fact that his eyes were not what they had once been.  
  
"Well, I'll be damned," Lucius breathed in disbelief. There, bathed in the magical light, stood Neville Longbottom, in the same exact spot as he'd been standing earlier. "Narcissa, that boy is still out there!"  
  
"I assumed that he had gone with Pansy and Ginny Weasley," Narcissa said sadly. "Lucius, you have to go bring him in. He will catch his death--"  
  
The mourning parents simply looked at each other, sharing their pain. Their only son was dead. He would never fly again. He would never inherit Malfoy Manor. He would never love again.  
  
"I will go," Lucius said softly, kissing Narcissa's forehead. "We have lost one. I do not care to lose this one as well."  
  
Neville's legs had started shaking two hours before Lucius made his way back down to the cemetery. Although somewhere deep inside Neville knew that he had to leave, he just could not do so. He did not want to.  
  
The rain had not stopped for even a moment. Neville's clothes now weighed heavily on him, sticking to his skin. His head was spinning from his lack of nourishment and sleep. His hand cramped from clenching Draco's wand too tightly for too long. He swayed slightly, willing himself to pass out, inviting blissful unconsciousness.  
  
_Help me, Draco_.  
  
"Neville."  
  
Neville's eyes slid shut, two tears seeping from beneath his lashes. Draco. He knew he was losing his mind, but he was adamant in his belief that if hearing and feeling and seeing Draco was the reward, then crazy he was happy to be.  
  
"Neville," Lucius gingerly touched the hand that gripped Draco's wand. "It is time to come in."  
  
The trembling teen slowly turned his head to look at Lucius. A tired but ecstatic smile lit Neville's face, joy dancing in his eyes. Lucius drew back his hand, curious as to the happiness on Neville's face.  
  
"Draco," Neville croaked, his voice rusty from disuse. "Draco! They said you'd died!"  
  
Lucius paused, taken aback. Draco?  
  
Neville dropped the wand in his hand and threw himself at Lucius, wrapping his arms around the older man's waist. Lucius took a step back, reeling as Neville burrowed against his chest.  
  
"Draco," Neville sobbed, clenching at Lucius robes. "Draco, you are alive! Or, or am I dead? I don't care. I'll be dead. I'll be dead!"  
  
"Neville," Lucius voice was a mere whisper, pained by the boy's delusions. Hearing him cry out for his son was his just punishment, he knew. It was his drugs that had ultimately killed his son. "Draco is dead. You are alive."  
  
"But you are here," Neville said forcefully, pulling Lucius more firmly against him. "I can feel you and smell you and hear you. You are here."  
  
"Neville, stop."  
  
Neville shuddered and shook his head. "Dragon."  
  
"No," Lucius gently pried the hysterical boy off of him and held him at arm's length, bending slightly to look into Neville's wild eyes. "Look at me. I am not Draco, I am Lucius. Lucius, not Draco."  
  
Neville's chocolate eyes swept over Lucius face, slowly realizing his mistake. His face contorted in agony. How could he have mistaken Lucius for Draco? Lucius' mouth was slightly broader; his eyes were closer to blue than Draco's beloved grey. The hands, though...  
  
Neville recoiled in horror. Those hands! They were exactly like Draco's! He twisted frantically, trying to escape Lucius grip. _Draco is dead_.  
  
"Neville," Lucius barked, shaking the boy slightly. "Stop it! Think of Draco! What would he think?"  
  
"He would think I am a failure," Neville rasped, his energy rapidly failing. The world was closing in on him. He would be out cold in a matter of minutes. "I did not save him. He died. He is fucking dead because of me. He died and it was my—"  
  
"No, boy," Lucius shook him again, causing Neville's head to snap back. "It was me. It was Potter. It was not you."  
  
The Slytherin boy's knees buckled suddenly, sending him to the muddy ground. He lurched forward in the mud, his hands sinking into the sodden earth. Lucius squatted next to him and picked up Draco's dirty wand.  
  
"You've got to get up," Lucius placed his free hand on the top of Neville's head. "_Live_. Draco would have you live."  
  
"I've got nothing," Neville whispered brokenly. "Draco was my life."  
  
"You've got your family," Lucius countered.  
  
"No," Neville shook his head underneath Lucius' palm. "The break. Draco. They could not accept it. I am alone."  
  
Lucius closed his eyes against the rain. He knew that had Draco lived, Neville would have been a permanent fixture in life at Malfoy Manor. He had been privileged enough to see their love first hand. Draco had, during his week suspension, yammered incessantly about Neville. Several times, Lucius had caught his son scribbling out rambling letters and hastily drawn sketches. He smiled, thinking back on his conversation with his son. One of their last.  
  
_"What are you drawing?" Lucius peered over his son's shoulder.__  
  
__"Nothing," Draco hurriedly slid his parchment under a book on his desk, his cheeks flushing.__  
  
__"So, that definitely was not a vision of Neville leaning against a wall?" Lucius teased. "And he certainly wasn't smiling."__  
  
__"Dad," Draco groaned, burying his face in his arms, utterly humiliated. Only his father could reduce him to a blushing child. __  
  
__"Too bad," Lucius squeezed Draco's shoulder reassuringly. "It was quite good."__  
  
__"You think so?" Draco peered up at his father curiously.__  
  
__"Oh, yes."__  
  
__"Do you—" Draco gulped, suddenly nervous. "Do you want to see them?"__  
  
__"I would be honored." __  
  
__Lucius, in fact, was thrilled to sit by his only child as they looked through nearly a hundred sketches. They were all of Neville. Some depicted just Neville's hands or eyes ("my favorite bits," Draco had shyly confessed.); some showed Neville and Draco, wrapped together in a sweet embrace; some were of Neville smiling. Mostly though, there were images of a sleeping Neville.__  
  
__"He doesn't know I draw him," Draco admitted, running is finger over a sleeping Neville's lips. "But I just sit there and watch him sleep. He is so trusting. Anyone could hurt him."__  
  
__"But you won't?" Lucius asked curiously.__  
  
__"I'd die first."_  
  
Lucius opened his eyes, his heart aching at the memory of his son's words. He wanted to uphold Draco's intentions to care for Neville.  
  
"Get up, Neville," Lucius grasped Neville's arms and pulled him to his feet. "We are your family now. You will live here at the Manor with us."  
  
Neville stood unsteadily, the rain still beating down on him unforgivingly. Lucius pressed Draco's wand into Neville's hand firmly.  
  
"_You_ are now the Malfoy heir."

* * *

It was three weeks before Neville returned to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The time he spent at Malfoy Manor was cathartic to his soul. He had been able to while away many hours in Draco's room, touching his clothes, reading his books, sleeping in his bed. Lucius had presented him, several days after the funeral, with Draco's sketchbook. Neville had not known that Draco was such a proficient artist. He was grateful for the book of drawings, as it reaffirmed that Draco had indeed loved him.  
  
With the knowledge of that love firmly ensconced in his heart, Neville entered the Great Hall on the Monday morning that he returned. He left his trunk in the entrance hall, not able to bear the thought of his cold and empty bedroom in the Slytherin dungeons.  
  
His entrance was met with sweeping silence. He had lost weight and his eyes were sunken, making him look extremely sickly. His sleek black robes hung loosely from his frame and his movements were slow and deliberate. He held his head high and moved toward the Slytherin table. There was a two-person wide gap in the crowd where Draco and Neville had always sat. Neville made his way to that gap and calmly sat in his space.  
_Don't look at Draco's seat._  
  
Despite his own warning, he turned his head slightly to look at the empty space beside him. His heart lurched and he suddenly did not feel like eating. He jerked his eyes away from the horribly empty bench and turned to Pansy, who was watching him with haunted eyes.  
  
"Hello, Pansy," he smiled weakly.  
  
"Neville," Pansy swallowed thickly and put her hand on his wrist. Her eyes were wide and concerned. "Are you—?"  
  
"Please don't, Pansy," Neville cut her off quickly. "I will be fine if we just don't talk about him. Please."  
  
Pansy nodded, understanding perfectly. She had been beyond consolation herself. Draco had been her best friend and constant companion for nearly fifteen years. And now, suddenly, she was alone. She needed to remain close to Neville, for her own sanity.  
  
"Are you going to classes then?" Pansy asked, spooning oatmeal into a bowl for Neville.  
  
"Yes," Neville yawned, a familiar exhaustion settling into his bones. He made a note to see Madam Pomfrey about a sleeping draught. "I need to get back to normal life."  
  
The pair sat in companionable silence as they munched through their breakfast. Neville watched the students in the Great Hall avoid looking at him. He could feel their curiosity. He wished that they would all bugger off.  
  
His eyes sought out the Gryffindor table, sweeping over the montage of blondes, brunettes and red heads, wanting to find that one raven-haired boy who was the reason for the unbearable silence at the Slytherin table.  
  
Harry sat surrounded by the usual suspects: Hermione, Ron, Seamus, Dean, Colin. Ginny, however, was not there. Neville scanned the table for his friend.  
  
The small red head sat at the very end of the table, alone. Her face was bent low to the table and her back was hunched, as if she was trying to curl up inside of herself. Neville's heart gave a tug of pity. Her unhappiness was palpable and Neville wanted to take that pain away.  
  
"What is up with you and Ginny?" Neville asked of Pansy abruptly. Pansy's cheeks flushed pink and she fumbled with her fork. "I mean, are you two dating or anything?"  
  
"She is confused right now," Pansy said defensively, her eyes landing on Ginny's back. "She does not want anyone here to know what is going on."  
  
"What is going on?"  
  
"We are talking," Pansy said hesitantly. "She left Potter. And she is very upset about Dra—about him—about Draco."  
  
Neville brushed aside the anguished feeling inside of him. He would be hearing Draco's name, and he had to maintain his composure or else all of the power he had gained would dissipate, with no chance of it ever being regained.  
  
"The Gryffindors have pretty much turned on her," Pansy continued quietly. "But she is loyal, so she refuses to come sit with us. She says that her parents would cheerfully murder her if she was caught at the Slytherin table."  
  
"Okay, well," Neville took a sip of his juice and then got to his feet. "Why don't we go sit with her?"  
  
"Are you mad?" Pansy looked up at Neville, her blue eyes wide. "Do you really think that those stupid Gryffindors would actually tolerate us in their presence?"  
  
"I think that if Potter has an inkling of intelligence," Neville said bitterly. "Then he will give me wide berth."  
  
Pansy reached out and grabbed Neville's hand. "Are you going to kill him?"  
  
Several Slytherins turned to hear Neville's response to this question. They had all, at one point or another, wished Harry would die, but no one had ever seriously plotted to kill him.  
  
"Oh, yes, I will kill him," Neville's eyes narrowed into the smallest slits, his voice low and dangerous. A collective gasp swept over the table. "Now, are you coming?"  
  
Pansy was stunned silent, but rose, still clasping Neville's hand in her own. She had already resolved to stand by Neville, regardless of what happened. If he landed in Azkaban, well then, she would make the monthly visit up there and take him biscuits and fresh clothes. She shook her head, berating herself for having such little faith in Neville's ability to kill Potter without getting caught.  
  
Neville entwined his fingers with Pansy's and started the walk to the Gryffindor table. Several Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs watched their progress with wide, scared eyes. At the staff table, Dumbledore motioned to Professors MacGonagall and Snape to go after the pair.  
  
"Ginny," Neville laid his free hand on the small girl's shoulder. Ginny tensed reflexively. "Ginny, it's me."  
  
Ginny whipped around quickly, her hair cascading over her shoulders in a tangled mess. Her blue eyes were sunken into their sockets, the skin beneath blackened from exhaustion. She looked both surprised and relieved to see Neville before her. Jumping to her feet, she threw her arms around Neville and buried her face against his neck. Pansy released Neville's hand so that he could completely embrace her.  
  
Ginny's slender body shuddered as she gave into great heaving sobs. "I'm sorry, Neville, I'm so sorry."  
  
Pansy covered her face with her hands, hot tears springing to her eyes. She hated herself for crying in front of her enemies. Just as she was about to turn and run from the Hall, she felt Neville's strong arm wrap around her waist and pull her close. She turned and put her arms around both Ginny and Neville, her face smashing against Ginny's shoulder.  
  
Professor MacGonagall, arriving on the scene, opened her mouth to speak, but Professor Snape laid a restraining hand on his colleague. She turned to look at the Potions Master quizzically.  
  
"There is no harm being done here, Minerva," Snape said quietly, his eyes on the desperately sad trio. "Let me talk to them."  
  
"Fine, Severus," MacGonagall stepped back, allowing Snape to approach the group who was drawing so much attention to itself.  
  
Neville looked at his head of house levelly, his arms tightening around the two crying girls. His gaze was steady and confident.  
  
"Longbottom," Snape nodded by way of greeting.  
  
"No," Neville shook his head. "I'm no longer a Longbottom."  
  
"What?" Snape's eyes narrowed, wondering if the rumors that Neville had lost his mind were true.  
  
"I am a Malfoy," Neville told him, a hint of pride coloring his voice. "Or to be more exact, I am the Malfoy heir."  
  
Snape was speechless. _The Malfoy heir_? Had Lucius actually made this boy his heir? He scanned Neville's features for signs of lying, but found none. The boy was staring at him as if daring him to challenge his declaration.  
  
"Fine," he finally said, deciding to check the facts for himself as soon as breakfast was over. "Mr. Malfoy, then. I think it would be best if the three of you retire to the Slytherin Common Room for the morning. I'll excuse you from your classes."  
  
Neville nodded and shifted to gently guide the two girls out of the Great Hall. Behind him, he heard Professor MacGonagall ordering her Gryffindors to stop staring and return to their breakfast. 

Harry Potter watched the sad threesome leave the Great Hall from beneath lowered lashes. It would not do for him to be caught staring at Draco Malfoy's boyfriend. Not in the current climate. Harry knew that every Slytherin in the room had their eyes trained on his figure, waiting for an excuse to attack. He could feel the sizzle of excitement. The Slytherin leader had at long last returned and that house was once again alive.  
  
Harry spooned food into his mouth, oblivious as to what it was he was eating. He had lost the ability to taste on the night Draco Malfoy died. Madam Pomfrey had called Harry's reaction "shock". Yes, shock would accurately explain the feelings raging through Harry. How was he to know that Malfoy was going to drop dead at his feet? His enemy for nearly seven years was gone and he had been the cause. Yes, of course he was shocked.  
  
He had not attended the funeral. Why would he? He was not sorry to finally be rid of the spineless prat. He had heard from school gossip that Neville had stood in the rain by Draco's casket for over eight hours. Harry shook his head and rolled his eyes. He could not grasp the concept that Draco Malfoy had been able to engender anything but repulsion in another living being. Although everyone knew that Neville was not exactly right in the head. Perhaps Malfoy had used Dark Magic to control him...  
  
Harry glanced up at the staff table. As usual, the Headmaster's piercing blue eyes were locked on him. What did the man want? Did he want Harry to cry? Did he want Harry to confess? Did the old man want him to throw himself in front of Neville and beg for forgiveness?  
  
_Fuck that. I'm _**_glad_**_ he is dead._

* * *

__

**A/N: Bless anyone who forgave me enough to read on! I hope you will carry on. There is, I assure you, method to my madness.**


	9. Lost and Wandering

**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Author Notes:** **This story contains both SLASH and blatant drug use.** If these themes offend you, please do not read this story!

The characters in this story may seem a little out of character, but give it a chance. Consider this story a "coming of age" tale about the characters developing into adults. I anticipate many flames telling me off for my OOC-ness. So be it.

**This story is COMPLETE. There is only one chapter (and an epilogue) remaining after this one.**

* * *

Chapter Eight: Lost and Wandering

_The slate will soon be clean__  
__I'll erase the memories__  
__To start again with somebody new__  
__Was it all wasted__  
__All that love?__  
__I hang my head and I advertise__  
__A soul for sale or rent__  
__I have no heart, I'm cold inside__  
__I have no real intent__  
  
__Save me, Save me, Save me__  
__I can't face this life alone__  
__Save me Save me__  
__Oh I'm naked and I'm far from home_  
  
_Save Me_ by Queen

* * *

"I can't do it, Pansy," Neville announced, collapsing onto the couch in the Common Room later that night. He leaned his head against his friend's small shoulder and exhaled sharply. "I made it as far as the door. I cannot go in."  
  
"It's okay, Neville," Pansy assured him with a light pat on the leg. "None of us have been in Draco's room since that night. It is too soon. No one expects you to go back to staying in there."  
  
"So where do I sleep?" Neville questioned warily. "There is no way that I am staying in the dormitories."  
  
"Well, aren't you just the pompous one now?" Pansy trilled in amusement. She shrugged Neville's heavy head off her shoulder and turned to look at his sickly face. "It was not so long ago that you shared a dormitory with the _Gryffindors._ And now you are too good to sleep with your housemates? Tsk."  
  
Neville poked Pansy in the ribs, making her gasp and giggle simultaneously. Pansy shoved his hands away and gave him a stern look that told him that she expected an answer.  
  
"I'm not too good," Neville sighed. "It's that I am too lonely."  
  
"But you would be with at least five other—"  
  
"You know what I mean, Pansy," he cried, standing up to pace in front of the couch. His haunted eyes raced around the room as if searching. "I slept beside Draco for so long. I do not know how to sleep alone anymore."  
  
"Oh, Neville," the small Slytherin girl leaned her chin in the palm of her hand and watched her friend walk in tight circles. "I'm afraid you will have to learn again. Unless you plan on jumping directly in bed with someone else!"  
  
"No!" Neville stopped pacing, the thought of sleeping with anyone but Draco making him slightly nauseous. "No. How could I, Pansy?"  
  
"Of course you couldn't," she soothed. "But I see no other recourse, do you? You must either sleep alone—either in Draco's room or in the dormitory—or you must find someone new."  
  
Neville did not stop to consider his choices. There was no choice. He did not want any other boy at Hogwarts. He wanted his Dragon. And if he could not have him, he would have no other.  
  
"Think Crabbe and Goyle will move my trunk upstairs?"  
  
"I'll fetch them," Pansy stood, smiling. At the foot of the stairs, she turned around. "You know, Neville, this is how we are going to beat this thing. This grief."  
  
"How's that?"  
  
"Baby steps."

* * *

It was noisy in the Slytherin Seventh Year dormitory, Neville soon learned. Crabbe snored, as he had always suspected. Goyle mumbled and cooed, which somewhat surprised him. There was a slight stirring in the armoire that Neville did not care to consider. And there was an odd, distant moaning in the walls, sounding almost as if the castle was crying.  
  
Neville lied there for nearly three hours, listening to the sounds of Slytherin. He was exhausted, but his eyes would not shut. His bed was uncomfortable. His pillow was too fluffed. The blanket itched. His feet were cold. The sheets were wrinkled. Draco was not there.  
  
Giving up on a peaceful slumber, Neville swung his long legs over the side of the bed and stood. He was not sure where he was going, but he knew that he could not stay in that room a moment longer. He moved slowly, his bare feet quietly slapping against the stone floor as he made his way out of the dormitory and down the corridor. He paused, trying to focus his swirling thoughts. Memories flooded over him, mixing with reality. Neville needed to sleep. He needed one night not invaded by guilt and misery.  
  
Deciding in an instant what he needed to do, he walked determinedly towards the Seventh Year Girls Dormitory and opened the door. He had not expected it to be locked; however, he _was_ surprised that it actually opened for him. Was Hogwarts not concerned for its young women? Sheesh.  
  
Neville's indignation slid away as he approached Pansy's bed. He was glad the door had not been locked. He would have had to wake the entire room, which he was certain would not have been a pretty scene. The Slytherin girls were a force to be reckoned with during normal operating hours. He could not imagine encountering the lot of them after waking them abruptly in the dead of the night.  
  
His trembling hands parted the drapes and looked down at Pansy. She was on her side, her knees drawn up to her chest. Her brow was furrowed as if in concentration. Neville smiled, marveling at the fact that she slept with the same ferocity with which she did everything else in her life.  
  
"Pansy," Neville whispered. Pansy's eyes flew open in sheer terror. Neville touched her shoulder, whispering his identity.  
  
"What's wrong?" Pansy sat up abruptly, her eyes scanning her surroundings for imminent danger.  
  
"Nothing's wrong," Neville suddenly felt foolish, standing there in pajama bottoms and not much else. He should have grabbed his robe. "I couldn't sleep."  
  
"Oh, Nev," Pansy tilted her head, causing her blonde hair to slide off her shoulder. She scooted her body to the far side of the bed and patted the mattress. "Why don't you sleep here tonight?"  
  
Neville smiled shyly and nodded. He wanted to sleep with her. He wanted to take comfort from her. She was Draco's best friend. She was his friend. She could make it all go away. She_ had_ to.  
  
He slid between the sheets and rested his head on Pansy's warm pillow, watching her fasten her drapes closed and tuck the duvet around their bodies.  
  
She lay down on the pillow and faced Neville, a reassuring smile on her face. "Is this okay?"  
  
"Yes," Neville said. He reached out and put his arm around his friend, drawing her close. "This is perfect."  
  
Pansy snuggled against Neville's chest, sighing into his warmth. She was desperate for comfort. He was Draco's lover. He was her friend. He could make it all go away. He _had_ to.

* * *

Ginny Weasley stood at the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room, pounding on the stone door. It was early, she knew, but she could not wait. She had come to a decision, and as a Weasley and a Gryffindor, it was in her nature to barrel headlong into it, regardless of the time.  
  
It had been too long, she had concluded not more than thirty minutes prior, since she had lived her life as she truly wished. For years, she had been guided (_controlled, more like_) by first her family, then Tom Riddle, then Harry Potter and finally her own confusion. Ginny Weasley was reclaiming her life.  
  
Ginny knew that she loved Pansy Parkinson. But the love that she felt was born of friendship and grief. The love she felt for Pansy was not a romantic love that burned brightly in her heart... it was not the love she had felt for Harry.  
  
Ginny's heart twinged and her eyes stung at the thought of her former boyfriend. How many years had she pined for him? No one truly thought that she would succeed in her quest to win Harry's heart, but inevitably, she had. Once they were together, everyone professed that the couple's love was pure and invincible. And yet, they were utterly fallible. It _had_ ended. In a way that left Ginny's mouth sour.  
  
Ginny jumped as the door was pulled open to reveal Millicent Bulstrode looking at her in a Most Unpleasant Manner.  
  
"It is early, Weasley," Millicent pointed out in her characteristic monotone. "Neville is still abed."  
  
"No, no," Ginny shook her head quickly, a small placating smile on her thin lips. "I am here to see Pansy."  
  
Millicent's dark eyes narrowed. She, of course, had seen the display at the Quidditch Cup celebration. She did not approve. There was already too much Slytherin Goodwill being extended to too many Gryffindors as of late.  
  
"Pansy is still sleeping," Millicent finally said. "Why don't you come back after lunch?"  
  
"It's quite urgent, Millicent," Ginny persisted, slipping past the bulky Slytherin. "I know my way to the dormitory. I won't be long."  
  
Millicent sighed and closed the door. If the girl Weasley was not the personal favorite of Neville, she would not have hesitated to toss the wench bodily from the House. As it was, Ginny was immune to any Slytherin backlash.  
  
Ginny walked swiftly down the corridor until she came to the Seventh Year Girls' Dormitory. She paused with her hand gripping the door knob, inhaling deeply, willing herself forward. She pushed the door open and stepped tentatively inside. There were five beds fanning out from the center of the room, just like the Gryffindor dormitory. Three of the beds were still covered with curtains, indicating that they were still occupied.  
  
Ginny approached the bed closest to the fireplace and parted the curtains, intending to crawl onto the mattress in order to talk to Pansy. She stared into the semi-darkness, confused at first by what she saw. Pansy was there, of course, but she was not alone. The duvet was crumpled at the foot of the bed, giving Ginny an unfettered view of the pair entangled with each other. It was Neville. Neville with his arm locked around Pansy's slender back, pressing her against his bare chest. It was Neville. Neville with one knee pushed between Pansy's thighs. It was Neville. Neville with his cheek pressed to the top of Pansy's head.  
  
Ginny stumbled backward, gasping loudly.  
  
Neville's eyes opened in an instant, catching a fleeting glance of Ginny as she let go of the green velvet curtains. Thinking he was dreaming, he let his eyes slide shut again. It was only when he tried to stretch out his body that he realized that there was someone in his arms. Once again, his eyes opened and he drew back to take in the warm form next to him.  
  
"Pansy?" Neville whispered in awe. Pansy's eyes fluttered open, a moment of confusion playing in the blue depths. She smiled, realizing it was Neville who held her so close.  
  
"Oh, no," Neville pushed Pansy away in horror, sitting up quickly. "_Ginny_!"  
  
"Ginny?" Pansy sat up and looked at Neville quizzically. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"Ginny, wait!" Neville clambered through the curtains and awkwardly gained his feet. "Ginny!"  
  
Ginny stood stock-still, staring at Neville as he hurried toward her. Her head tilted on its own volition, curiosity overtaking her shock.  
  
"It's not what it looks like," Neville began, his voice gritty from sleep. "I couldn't sleep and—"  
  
"Stop, Neville," Ginny held out her hand to prevent Neville from approaching her. "I don't care what you are doing here. I don't think I want to know anyway."  
  
Pansy slid from the bed, casting a glare at Daphne Greengrass, who had opened her curtains at the sound of Neville's voice. Daphne quickly jumped from bed and scurried from the room, clad in only her nightdress.  
  
"I'm glad that you are both here, actually," Ginny continued quietly. She sat on the bed Daphne had just vacated. "I need to talk to you."  
  
Pansy remained silent, keeping her guilt and worries at bay the best she could. Neville and she had only been sleeping. Two friends who needed one another. Nothing more.  
  
"I realize that this past year has been one emotional snag after another," Ginny twisted the ends of her long hair between her fingers. "What with the House Break and the party and Harry and— and _Draco_. I've hardly known which way to turn, let alone think."  
  
"What are you saying, Gin?" Neville asked.  
  
"I'm saying that it is time for me to start thinking for myself, Neville."  
  
"I've never tried to tell you what to think."  
  
"Maybe not directly," Ginny smiled ruefully at her old friend. "But you were definitely a major influence on my decisions. But I'm ready to strike out on my own now."  
  
Neville and Pansy exchanged curious glances.  
  
"That means," Ginny inhaled deeply before continuing. "Pansy, I cannot keep on the way we were. I know that I love you, but not in the way that I was leading you to believe. I know that now. I'm sorry."  
  
"It's fine, Ginny. We were thrown together under less than ideal circumstances," Pansy's small mouth quirked into a smile. "But we are still friends, right?"  
  
"Yes, definitely," Ginny smiled, looking relieved. "We are still friends. Nothing has changed there."  
  
"Is there more?" Neville wondered aloud. "I mean, you said you needed to talk with us both."  
  
"Well," Ginny rose and approached Neville. "It is just that I am very concerned for you, Nev. You aren't sleeping, you aren't eating. It is time to let Draco go."  
  
Neville flinched as if the red head had slapped him. It was easy for everyone to tell him to move on. But for Neville, Draco represented his first love, the person who loved him in return. How could he go back to a life without love?  
  
"I can't, Gin," Neville said defensively, dropping back down onto Pansy's bed. "Not yet. I know you don't understand, but you have to let me be."  
  
"Neville," Pansy placed her small hand on his bare shoulder tentatively. "I _do _understand. Draco was my best friend. I have loved him since before I can remember. We can help each other let him go. It is for the best."  
  
"He would _not_ want us to let him go," Neville muttered, petulantly.  
  
"That is true," Pansy laughed. "That old prat would have us throw ourselves on his very grave and drown ourselves in our own tears."  
  
Neville chuckled, remembering the outrageous conceit that was Draco.  
  
"Well," Ginny smiled broadly. "When have we _ever_ given in to what Draco wants?"  
  
Neville and Pansy gaped at Ginny in wonder.  
  
"Are you serious?" Pansy asked, blinking rapidly.  
  
"When did we _not_ give in to Draco?" Neville asked, amazed.  
  
"Oh, for pity's sake," Ginny threw up her hands in disgust. "Am I the only one who could resist that boy?"  
  
"Yes," Pansy and Neville chorused with absolute conviction.  
  
"Gah," Ginny sat next to Neville and buried her face in her hands. "You two are impossible."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Pansy declared triumphantly.  
  
"I think Draco would be pleased to hear it!" Neville chimed in cheerily.  
  
"Gah," said Ginny.

* * *

"Everyone thinks you and I are together now," Pansy told Neville one day over dinner. "Did you know that?"  
  
"Yeah," Neville shrugged his shoulders in an off-handed fashion. "I heard some Gryffindors whispering behind their hands in Potions today."  
  
"You did?" Pansy's brow furrowed. "But we were sitting together. _I_ didn't hear them."  
  
"That's because you were actually _working_," her friend teased with a smile.  
  
"Well, one of us needs to be concerned about our marks," Pansy pouted prettily. "I can't believe you didn't at least tell me about it after class!"  
  
"Does it matter?" the Gryffindor turned Slytherin asked, his face suddenly serious. "I mean, does it bother you that people associate you with me?"  
  
Pansy's heart lurched at the apprehension and self-doubt in Neville's amber eyes.  
  
"No, darling," Pansy soothed, her hand automatically reaching out to caress his cheek. "I was only worried for _your_ reputation."  
  
"Ah, well," he beamed at her, his confidence returning. "I'm sure that my reputation has been in tatters for _ages_ now. No worries."  
  
Hours later, the duo was curled together in Pansy's small bed, as was their custom of late. None of the other Seventh Year Slytherin girls dared to speak out against the arrangement. Neville was a Malfoy now. He was not only a Slytherin, he was **the** Slytherin. If the girls felt uncomfortable having their leader sleeping amongst them, they wisely kept their thoughts to themselves.  
  
"Do you think they mind me here?" Neville asked in a low voice, nodding his head toward the muffled voices of the Slytherin girls.  
  
"Who cares?" Pansy shrugged and rolled her eyes. "If anything, they wish you were in _their_ beds."  
  
"Oh, give over," Neville laughed at the insinuation that he anyone would want him. "I'm just the geeky ex-Gryffindor who is too much of a pussy to sleep with the boys."  
  
"Have you thought about trying your own room?" Pansy asked cautiously, her head turning to watch her friend's reaction.  
  
"You tired of me hogging the blankets?" he asked flippantly. He did not want to sleep alone. Particularly not in a room where Draco's ghost loomed. "I can go back to the boy's dorm."  
  
"No," Pansy responded immediately. "And I meant that you and I both could stay in that room. I mean, for a while. Until you got settled."  
  
A small smile spread over Neville's face. She had guessed his worry. Of course she had. She knew him better than anyone. He leaned down and kissed her cheek.  
  
"You kissed me," Pansy said needlessly, her hand touching her cheek in shock.  
  
"As astute as always, Parkinson."  
  
"I always assumed," Pansy whispered. "That if you ever got around to kissing me, it would be a bit more—_fantastic_."  
  
Neville's breath caught in his chest. Pansy was looking at him with absolute conviction in her pale eyes. This was the moment that he feared. He knew that the closeness they shared could only lead to one thing.  
  
"Pans," he cleared his throat and shifted himself away from her silk-clad body. "I—"  
  
"Don't," the embarrassed girl ducked her head under Neville's chin, silently cursing herself for her bold stupidity. "I mean, it's okay. I was just teasing."  
  
Neville clamped his mouth shut, partially relieved to be granted this temporary stay. He knew they had to talk. He knew that she was not teasing. He knew everything, but was too frightened to speak. He wanted Draco and _only_ Draco. But Draco was gone. And Pansy was the closet thing to Draco. She could heal him.  
  
Pansy fought to steady her heartbeat and even out her breathing. She knew it had been a mistake. Of course Neville had no interest in her. Neville loved Draco. And she was no Draco. She did not want him, as a matter of course. But there was something comforting about being encircled in his arms, the same arms that once held her best friend. She figured it was the shared memory of Draco that caused her attraction. Neville was the closest thing to Draco that she would ever get. He could save her.  
  
"You're shivering," Neville pointed out, tugging the duvet higher around her bare shoulders. "Are you cold?"  
  
"Not really," Pansy said, her voice tinny and child-like. "Just mortified."  
  
"Don't be," Neville whispered, his hand drifting to the cheek he kissed just moments before. "It's me. I'm scared."  
  
Pansy lifted her head to look into Neville's eyes. "Scared? Of what?"

"Of feeling again," he confessed on a sigh.  
  
Pansy nodded. It all came back to Draco. "I understand."  
  
Neville groaned and rolled so that Pansy was trapped beneath his bare chest. She gasped at the weight, but made no move to escape.  
  
"You_ don't_ understand," he rasped before pressing his mouth to hers in a desperate kiss. Recovering from her shock quickly, Pansy wrapped her arms around Neville's shoulders and pulled him more firmly against her. She tilted her head and nudged Neville gently, encouraging him to continue.  
  
Neville's heart was racing. Was he betraying the memory of Draco? What would Draco think? When Pansy opened her lips against his, he pushed all thoughts of Draco aside and lost himself in her mouth.  
  
A keening cry echoed throughout the Slytherin Dungeon.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy sat in his office, reviewing his accounts. Ever since Draco's death, he had stopped selling Ecstasy at Hogwarts. As a result, his business was suffering slightly. He was, quite frankly, amazed at how much revenue Draco and Neville had brought in. But he could not, in good faith, ignore the fact that his drugs had been the reason for his son's death. And, of course, Harry Potter. That meddlesome boy had killed his son. And in effect, part of his business.  
  
He looked forward to the day that Potter was no longer under the watchful eye of Albus Dumbledore. Lucius was bent on revenge. He had distanced himself from Dark Magic after the fall of Lord Voldemort, but he remembered. He remembered how easy it was to kill. And more importantly, he remembered his hatred for Harry Potter. Oh, how lovely it would be to see that boy's blood run dry. Oh, yes.  
  
Lucius closed his account book. He would avenge his son's murder. _Soon_.


	10. Precious Pain

**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Author Notes:** **This story contains both SLASH and blatant drug use.** If these themes offend you, please do not read this story!

The characters in this story may seem a little out of character, but give it a chance. Consider this story a "coming of age" tale about the characters developing into adults. I anticipate many flames telling me off for my OOC-ness. So be it.

* * *

Chapter Nine: Precious Pain

_Each road that I walk down  
Reminds me of you  
This whole town is haunted  
There'll never be anything new  
  
Precious pain  
Empty and cold but it keeps me alive  
I gave it my soul so that I could survive  
Keeping me safe in these chains  
Precious pain_

_---Precious Pain_ by Melissa Etheridge

* * *

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had experienced quite a few shocks. It was becoming standard practice to be surprised. So much so that it was often a shock to NOT be surprised on a weekly basis.  
  
So, when Neville Malfoy appeared at breakfast with Pansy Parkinson's hand held firmly in his own in what was categorically _not_ a friendly gesture, the Hogwarts population barely took notice. It seemed only natural that the reigning king united with the longtime queen of Slytherin House. Never mind that they had all thought Neville was gay. Never mind the Incident between Pansy and Ginny Weasley. This latest development was child's play in comparison to what they had seen over the past year.  
  
The school year was coming to an end. The Seventh Years were beginning to wax poetic about their time at Hogwarts. None more so than Harry Potter and his friends.  
  
"This has been a difficult year," Hermione sighed over her plate of toast, watching Neville from across the room. "I cannot believe I'm saying this, but I am ready to be done with school."  
  
Ron dropped his fork while Harry choked on his juice.  
  
"Well," Hermione tutted. "It's true. The drama within these walls is getting too much for me to bear. I am looking forward to a nice, long, relaxing summer."  
  
"I agree, Hermione," Harry nodded seriously, his eyes also on Neville. "But there is something I have to do first."  
  
"You're not going to do anything stupid, are you?"  
  
"Hermione!" Ron pulled an offended face. "Have we ever done?"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes and turned her attention to Harry. "Harry, you must let it go."  
  
"Don't worry, Hermione," Harry wiped his mouth and dropped his napkin to the table. "I won't do anything to injure him. Well, not bodily, anyway."  
  
"Then, what?"  
  
"We think this new _Malfoy_ could do with a bit of a dent in his pride," Harry told her vaguely. "He'll fully recover, I'm sure."  
  
Hermione glared at Harry until he rolled his infamous green eyes.  
  
"We are going to hex him," Harry revealed with a small laugh. "We've been doing research and have found a good one."  
  
"_Research_?!" Hermione gasped, confused by Harry's use of the word. "Since when do you—?"  
  
"Do you want to hear it or not?" Harry cut off her with a scowl. When she closed her mouth and nodded, he continued. "We are going to hex him so that he is forced to live a moment in time over and over again."  
  
"What?"  
  
"It will look like he's lost his mind, see," Ron laughed at the brilliance of the plan. "Because the rest of the school will carry on, but Neville will be in his own little world."  
  
Hermione looked disgusted.  
  
"Oh, come on, Hermione," Harry sighed in exasperation. At that moment, he could not recall why he was a friend of Hermione's. She was such a killjoy. "It won't last long. An hour at the most."  
  
"And what moment, pray tell," Hermione inquired stiffly. "Will Neville be reliving?"  
  
"Oh, that," Ron shrugged. "That's the beauty of it. _We_ don't pick the moment. Neville does. Whatever he happens to be thinking about when we hit him with the hex. That thought or memory or whatever—that is the moment."  
  
It sounded harmless enough. But Hermione remained unconvinced. Neville did not deserve such treatment. He had once been their friend, and that she could not forget.  
  
"Don't worry, Hermione," Harry patted her arm reassuringly. "It's perfectly safe. It's not like it'll kill him."  
  
Harry and Ron laughed loudly, but Hermione seethed. How could Harry joke so blithely about death so soon after the incident with Draco Malfoy? Was he really so cold-hearted? She shuddered, afraid of the answer.

* * *

"I got an owl from Lucius," Neville whispered to Pansy during Potions. "He heard about us."  
  
"Oh, he did?" Pansy paled significantly. "What did he say?"  
  
"He said that Draco would be pleased to see that we are together," Neville peered into their cauldron in an attempt to look studious. "Pleased that we have moved on."  
  
Pansy snorted in disbelief. She knew Draco better than that. He would _hate_ to see them together.  
  
"I know," Neville chuckled softly. "Draco would kill us."  
  
"Did he say anything else?"  
  
"That he will expect you to come stay the summer with us at the Manor," Neville turned his head slightly to look at Pansy. "And that he is coming to Hogwarts this weekend."  
  
"What?" yelped Pansy, garnering a quelling sneer from Professor Snape.  
  
"Apparently," Neville leaned closer to Pansy so as not to be overheard. "The Ministry of Magic is sending him here to put on a talk about steering clear of drugs."  
  
Pansy gulped back a hysterical giggle. How preposterous. Everyone knew that the Malfoy family was the supplier in the Magical world.  
  
"As ridiculous as it sounds," Neville continued. "He _volunteered_ to come here. A public service announcement, if you will."  
  
"But why, in the name of Salazar, would he do _that_?"  
  
Neville picked up the ladle lying next to the cauldron and twirled it between his fingers, thinking. Ever since he had read Lucius' Owl, he had been suspicious. Suspicion, it seemed, was ingrained in him—a true Slytherin trait. But why should he be suspicious of the man who had cared enough to make him heir to the Malfoy fortune? Clearly, Lucius had a plan to which Neville was not yet privy.  
  
"He's up to something," Neville said quietly, his brown eyes sliding to Pansy's. "I haven't worked out what, just yet, but I know that he would not be making this speech without a very specific, self-serving motive."  
  
"Neville," Pansy breathed in amazement. "How could you say something like that? I mean, that sounded so—"  
  
Pansy pursed her lips closed, not daring to continue her thought.  
  
"You were going to say 'so Gryffindor', weren't you?" Neville asked with a sad smile on his face. When she nodded, he shrugged guiltily. "I guess you're right. It came out before I could stop it."  
  
"It's okay," Pansy reassured with a quick squeeze of his hand. "I guess we all have our moments. But you aren't going to try to stop him. Are you?"  
  
"No," he curled his lips and shook his head quickly. "Of course not. His plan will obviously not include any harm to Slytherin."  
  
"You think it is about Potter, then?"  
  
Neville blinked several times. He had not considered the possibility. Lucius would not attempt to kill Harry Potter right under Dumbledore's nose. It was ludicrous. But why else? Why would the great and powerful drug dealer Lucius Malfoy deign to give a talk about the ill effects of drugs on the wizarding population unless he was being compensated heartily? Neville knew what Lucius wanted more than anything: the death of Harry Potter.  
  
_Oh, no_.  
  
Neville, pale and shivering, turned back to Pansy just as Professor Snape approached their table, a look of disgust on his face.  
  
"Parkinson! Malfoy!" Snape hissed in a low voice so that the rest of the class had to lean forward to earwig. "I have attempted to overlook your utter lack of attention and blatant disregard for this class, however, your incessant buzzing is impossible to ignore. Cease your gossiping at once or I shall be forced to remove you from this class. Is that clear?"  
  
Neville and Pansy nodded jerkily, color staining both of their cheeks. Professor Snape turned on his heel and in a great swirl of cloaks, stalked back to the front of the classroom.  
  
"We'll talk at dinner," Neville muttered out of the corner of his mouth.  
  
"Malfoy!" Snape roared, his face turning an unhealthy puce. "Out!"

* * *

Later that night, Neville and Pansy sat huddled close together at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. They had shooed away their usual groupies in order to be completely isolated. The threat of Lucius Malfoy entering the school with murder on his mind had been torturing Neville all day long.  
  
"He's going to kill Potter," Neville revealed heavily as he pushed his dinner around his plate. "I just know it."  
  
"He wouldn't," Pansy shook her head quickly. Lucius Malfoy was a brilliant man. He had to know that it would be an act of suicide to kill the precious Harry Potter within the walls of Hogwarts. "I mean, _of course_ he will, but not while we are in school. He will bide his time, Neville. He simply _has_ to."  
  
"No," the agitated Slytherin leader insisted roughly. "Lucius is crazy with anger. He wants Potter dead. He cannot forget what that little bastard did to Draco. Not until he has revenge."  
  
Pansy swallowed down her apprehension. She, too, was furious at the famous Gryffindor. She, too, wanted to claim his blood. But she was patient. She could wait—even if it took years. She knew that one day, Potter would pay dearly for his sins.  
  
"If he does it," Neville continued his voice hollow and afraid. "Then, he will surely die. He will not make it out of this castle."  
  
"They won't kill him," Pansy hissed confidently, scooting her bottom closer to Neville on the bench. "Not them. They will send him to Azkaban."  
  
"But that's worse, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes," Pansy exhaled in anguish. She did not want to lose the man who had, for so many years, been her second father. She loved Lucius Malfoy as much as Draco had. Her memories of Draco and her childhood at the Manor, playing Dementors and prisoners... they all involved Lucius. "Much worse."  
  
Neville dropped his head into his hands and leaned against the table. "What are we going to do, Pans?"  
  
Pansy let her eyes stray to the Gryffindor table where Harry and Ron were guffawing loudly with Seamus Finnegan. The Golden Boy. The Boy Who Lived. The Boy Who Killed Voldemort. The Boy Who Killed Draco Malfoy. The Boy Who _Must Die_.  
  
"We do nothing," Pansy finally said, hard-hearted resolve steeling her emotions.  
  
"Nothing?" he cried, sitting upright once again. Several students turned to look at Neville quizzically, but he glared at them until they averted their eyes once again. "What do you mean _nothing_?""Nothing," Pansy reiterated firmly. "Lucius knows that he will be punished. He's doing this for Draco. He will not tolerate your interference. He wants you to be held blameless, don't you see?"  
  
"No, I don't see," Neville cried angrily, slamming his palms on the table top, causing the dishes to rattle nervously. "He'll leave me now, _alone_ again. What will I do after I leave here? Where will I go?" 

"Don't you see, Neville," Pansy clasped his face in her hands and pushed her face close to his, forcing him to look her in the eyes. "_You_ are the Malfoy heir. You'll own Malfoy Manor. You'll inherit it all. You won't have any worries."  
  
"But—"  
  
"No," Pansy's blue eyes flashed violently as she pushed closer to Neville, shaking his face sternly. "There is no 'but'. You must let this happen."  
  
Neville stared at Pansy, shocked by the strength of her convictions. She was right, of course. Lucius knew the ramifications of his actions. Lucius also knew that both Pansy and he both wanted Harry dead. Could it be that Lucius was protecting his heir by committing the murder first? With Harry dead, perhaps Neville would find the peace that had evaded him since Draco's demise.  
  
Slowly, Neville nodded at Pansy. He had to let Lucius kill Harry. There was no other way.

* * *

"Look at that robe," Pansy chuckled and pointed at Luna Lovegood's electric blue outfit. "I've never seen a blue like that before. Have you?"  
  
Neville glanced at Luna's latest fashion faux pas and smiled. The color was certainly shocking, but Pansy's words gave him pause. Blue like that before. It was an oddly familiar phrase. Before he could put his finger on the memory, Professor Dumbledore rose from his chair, commanding an instant silence in the room.  
  
"We are gathered here today," the Headmaster explained without preamble. "To discuss a very serious matter. As you all recall, Hogwarts suffered a great loss when drug use claimed the life of Draco Malfoy."  
  
He paused, as if to honor the boy's memory with a moment of silence. In that moment, Neville remembered. _Blue like that_. That night. The night Draco died. They had danced. To that song.  
  
_And I never saw blue like that before__  
__Across the sky__  
__Around the world__  
__You've given me all you have and more__  
__And no one else has ever shown me how__  
__To see the world the way I see it now__  
__Oh, I, I never saw blue like that_  
  
The beleaguered Slytherin shook his head, willing the memory away. He could not handle the thought of Draco in his arms. It was never going to be that way again. Neville knew that he had to let Draco go. But, oh, he did not want to.  
  
"The Ministry of Magic," Professor Dumbledore continued somberly. "Has sent us Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father, to lead us in a frank discussion about drug use."  
  
Neville tuned out the Headmaster's voice as he invited the memory of Draco in; He was instantly surrounded by all that was Draco: His smell, the texture of his skin, the feel of his breath against Neville's neck. The dance.  
  
Across the room, Harry leaned forward over the table; his sights set on his former Housemate and whispered the hex he had rehearsed so many times.  
  
Neville's scalp tingled warmly as the vision of the dance crystallized. It was so real. He could feel Draco. He could hear the strains of the music. The room was crowded with his classmates. The smell of beer and sweat mingled with the sweet scent of Draco's hair.  
  
_"So glad—"__  
  
__"You're back—"__  
  
__"Don't let—"__  
  
__"Won't—"__  
  
__"So much—"__  
  
__"Me, too—"__  
  
__"Dance—"__  
  
__"With you—"__  
  
__"With you—"_  
  
Today we took a walk up the street  
And picked a flower and climbed the hill  
Above the lake  
  
_They swayed in time with the music, their bodies moving inexorably closer to one another. Dark and light, coming together. So right._  
  
And secret thoughts were said aloud  
We watched the faces in the clouds  
Until the clouds had blown away  
  
_Pansy smiled, watching as the room became still, serious. Every set of eyes was on the boys. It was as if a spell had been cast, freezing them all, forcing them to witness this touching and momentous scene._  
  
And were we ever somewhere else  
You know, it's hard to say  
  
_Neville leaned his forehead against Draco's. Brown eyes locked on grey, no words sullying the moment._  
  
And I never saw blue like that before  
Across the sky  
Around the world  
You've given me all you have and more  
And no one else has ever shown me how  
To see the world the way I see it now  
Oh, I, I never saw blue like that  
  
_Draco slid his hands down Neville's silk covered arms, seeking out the boy's smooth hands. Their fingers laced together, palm to palm, soul to soul._  
  
I can't believe a month ago  
I was alone, I didn't know you  
I hadn't seen or heard you're name  
And even now, I'm so amazed  
It's like a dream, it's like a rainbow, it's like the rain  
  
_Neville tilted his head, rolling away from Draco's forehead, his lips descending slowly to Draco's for their first kiss of the night. Draco's eyes closed with a flutter of lashes._  
  
And some things are the way they are  
And words just can't explain  
  
_The room exhaled a deeply wistful sigh as Draco pulled Neville's arms around his waist, their finger still locked. Draco was the absolute picture of surrender with his arms trapped behind his back._  
  
Cause I never saw blue like that before  
Across the sky  
Around the world  
  
_Neville felt as if he was falling. Draco was making love to his mouth, in front of most of the school. It was a declaration. It was a consignment. It was wonderful._  
  
You've given me all you have and more  
And no one else has ever shown me how  
To see the world the way I see it now  
Oh, I, I never saw blue like that before  
  
_Draco pulled his mouth away from Neville's, leaning forward so that their cheeks were touching. "I love you."_  
  
And it feels like now,  
And it feels always,  
And it feels like coming home  
  
_Neville bowed his head, quick tears springing to his eyes._  
  
I never saw blue like that before  
Across the sky  
Around the world  
You've given me all you have and more  
And no one else has ever shown me how  
To see the world the way I see it now  
Oh, I, I never saw blue like that before  
  
_"I love you, too."_  
  
The memory that was so bittersweet began replaying itself again in Neville's mind. Once again, he could feel Draco's body pressed so intimately against his own. His lips burned from Draco's kiss. The distinct smell of Slytherin House that night swirled around his senses. It was all so real. It was all so unbearably real. 

As the memory looped a third time, Neville stood from his place at the table, tears coursing down his face, oblivious to the fact that Lucius was now standing in front of the room, a serious look upon his face and a pointer in his hand.

"I love you, too."

The student body turned as one, to see Neville smiling, despite his tears, his hands in the air, as if he was reaching for someone. Pansy looked up in surprise at the crying boy and quickly grabbed his arm, begging him to sit down. Neville shook his head and wrenched his arm from the small girl with ease. He hurried out of the Great Hall, leaving the silent student body behind him.  
  
Lucius and Pansy looked at each other briefly, panic enveloping their heart. Pansy leapt to her feet and ran after Neville, calling his name.  
  
"If you'll excuse me, Headmaster..." Lucius said as he hurriedly followed Neville and Pansy from the room.  
  
Harry and Ron clutched their mouths with their hands to avoid laughing out loud. It was obvious that their hex had hit their mark. And as they hoped, Neville looked like a fool. He was talking—clearly to Draco—but Draco was not there. Harry made an untoward joke about insanity running in the Longbottom line.  
  
"I can't believe you've done this," Hermione bared her teeth and jumped up from her seat. "I thought you said it was harmless?"  
  
"It is!" Ron insisted, still trying to contain his mirth. "He's not bleeding. He's not dead. He's not even hurt."  
  
"He was _crying_," Hermione pointed out angrily. "Crying! If he was not hurt, why was he crying like that?"

"Honestly, Hermione," Harry exhaled in exasperation. "Don't you remember Neville at all? He cries at the drop of a hat. He's probably remembering yesterday's Potions exam—which he surely failed without his precious Malfoy to help him cheat."  
  
"You are the reason Malfoy was not there to help him! And what if he is remembering the night he died?" Hermione raged, picking up a goblet and lobbing it at Harry, who ducked in time to avoid it. Her anger was crashing over her in waves. She had had enough. "What if he is seeing you _killing_ Malfoy over and over again?"  
  
A haunting silence descended upon the Gryffindor table. Dean and Seamus ducked their heads and moved gingerly down the bench, wanting to distance themselves from the epicenter drama. 

"What's going on?" Ginny hurried over to the Trio, her face ashen. "What happened to Neville?"  
  
"None of your business, Ginny," Harry gritted. He rose slowly and leaned toward Hermione. "If that traitor is remembering that prat's death, I am _glad_. It is no less than he deserves."  
  
Hermione stifled an enraged scream, but could not stop herself from slapping Harry's face with a blinding force. The crowd in the Great Hall gasped as Harry's head snapped to the side.  
  
"Miss Granger!" Professor Dumbledore boomed from the front of the room. "Mr. Potter! Join me in the hall. Immediately."  
  
Harry rubbed his jaw and set off, leaving Hermione to walk alone, her chest heaving in fury. Ginny ran at full speed past both Harry and Hermione and sped toward the Slytherin dungeons. The shocked students turned to watch their exits.  
  
Once in the hallway, Professor Dumbledore demanded an explanation for the dramatic showdown. Between shrill accusations and bellowed disparagements, the Headmaster garnered enough of the story to know that his attention was needed in the dungeon, where he assumed Neville had fled.  
  
"Mr. Potter," the benevolent wizard sighed tiredly. "I think it is best that you go directly to your dormitory... where you are to begin packing your trunk."  
  
"What?" Harry's self-satisfied smirk faltered.  
  
"This prank of yours, Mr. Potter," Professor Dumbledore said with a touch of anger. "This hex. This time, you have gone too far. I fear that your time at Hogwarts has come to an end."

Harry whipped his head around, instinctively turning to Hermione for answers. One bout of anger could not make his soul forget that Hermione had always been there to save him from himself. She stood so close to him, but she refused to look at him. Her arms were crossed defensively over her chest and the muscles in her chin twitched in fury.  
  
"But Professor—" Harry cried as his features paled and his eyes widened. Surely his mentor, his protector did not mean to throw him out on his ear.  
  
"Good-bye, Harry," Professor Dumbledore turned his back on his once prized student. "Go at once to the Tower. I shall send Professor MacGonagall to you."  
  
Hermione watched the Headmaster sweep down the stairs leading to the Slytherin dungeons with hard eyes. Turning slowly to face Harry at last, she smiled a grim, mocking smile. "I guess you're not impervious after all."  
  
"You ungrateful bitch," he advanced on his friend menacingly, clenching his fists at his side. Hermione took an automatic step backwards, suddenly afraid. "I made you matter in this school. Without me, you'd have been a no one."

"Harry," the small brunette shuffled back again, hitting the wall with her heels. She raised her hands to cover her face, unsure if Harry was going to strike her or not. "Stop!"

"Harry," a deep voice stilled Harry, who had raised his hand almost casually. "Don't."

The dark haired boy turned to face Ron, who's face was mottled red with anger. The Weasley Prefect advanced quickly, stepping between his best friend and his girlfriend, a look of supreme understanding playing across his features.

"I never wanted to believe it," Ron said regretfully, placing his hands on his hips. "I always wanted to pretend that Ginny was a clumsy lout who tripped getting out of a chair."

Harry schooled his features into perfect coolness and refused to respond to the blatant allegation.

"You were my friend, Harry," Ron said with a slight catch in his throat. "But if this is the real you—the you who is able to hit my sister _and _my girlfriend—I think it is best that we end it here."

Harry nodded imperceptibly before turning on his heel and sprinting up the stairs. Halfway up, he turned with a look of utmost disgust on his face and growled, "Good riddance."

Hermione collapsed into Ron's arms and together, they watched their friend run up the stairs toward Gryffindor Tower. For the last time.

* * *

Pansy shouted the Slytherin password as she and Lucius approached the stone wall that was the passageway. The pair scanned the Common Room and found no signs of the plagued leader of Slytherin House. She darted down the hall to the Seventh Year Girl's dormitory, which she also found empty. Upon her return to the Common Room, she found Lucius Malfoy, looking anxious.  
  
Lucius looked at her questioningly. "What happened?"  
  
"I don't know," she shrugged, utterly frustrated. "He was fine. And then—he wasn't. I don't know where he must've come down here. Where else would he have go—"  
  
Pansy stopped short, her eyes darting to the hallway at the far end of the Common Room. Draco's room. Her friend had been too afraid to enter the room in the weeks that had passed since Draco's passing. He was afraid of the memories, the ghost of happiness that he was not prepared to confront. Knowing beyond a doubt that Neville had turned there in his grief, she ran toward the room, Lucius following in her wake.  
  
The heavy door, bolted since the night of Draco's death, was swung open in an eerie inviting manner. The room was dark, save the light from the enchanted window, which showed a cheery autumnal scene with falling leaves and chirping birds. In the middle of the room, cast in the warm mid-day sun, gently swaying was Neville.  
  
"Neville," Lucius approached his adopted heir, concern clearly etched in his pale features. He reached out a hand to clasp the boy's shoulder, but the vacant look in Neville's dark eyes gave him pause. "What is it, son?"  
  
"Draco?" Neville whispered to the dank room. He was shaking incessantly from the vivid memories of his shared dance with Draco. The memory hex had run its course just as Harry had predicted. The hex, true to it's purpose, had forced him to relive the emotionally rending moment no less than ten times.  
  
"Neville?" Pansy hesitated to step closer to her friend turned lover, unsure if she was more terrified by his pale features or by his quiet cry for his dead boyfriend.  
  
"Draco," Neville wailed in anguish, pain searing through his chest. He stared at the window, certain he saw Draco emerging from its faux scene. "Draco?"  
  
"Neville," a familiar voice sounded softly as a silvery vision took form. "Is that you?"  
  
Lucius spun around in shock at the sound. There, standing not three meters away was his only son. Draco. Pansy covered her mouth with her hands and issued a blood curdling scream.  
  
Draco drifted across the room until he stood face to face with Neville, sparing not a glance at his speechless father or his sobbing best friend. Neville's eyes closed and opened slowly, two fat tears dropping to his cheeks.  
  
"You have finally come," Draco said softly, a happy smile playing on his pale pink lips. "Did you forget the password again? Had to wait for Gareth to finish his supper before he came along to let you in?"  
  
"No," Neville croaked, shaking his head slowly, the loving taunts wreaking havoc on his heart. His entire form trembled, making the vision of Draco dance a terrible unearthly dance. "No. I didn't know you were here. I would have come. I _would have come_."  
  
"What's wrong, HB?" Draco tilted his head and furrowed his brow, confused by his lover's demeanor and unsteady voice. He reached out, seeking to comfort the one person who he had truly loved in his life.  
  
"You _died_, Dragon," Neville forced out, hating the sound of the word. He stared at Draco's hand, suspended just centimeters away from his face. A slight chill swept over him.  
  
"No, I didn't," Draco laughed at the obvious joke. He was still alive. Clearly, he had to be alive. "I'm right here, silly. I've been waiting for you for hours now."  
  
Lucius swallowed thickly. His son was there—but not in the flesh. He was nearly transparent, barely visible in the enchanted sunlight. His son was a ghost of himself. He was horrified and felt the bile rising in his throat. Malfoy Senior wanted nothing more than to rewind time and save his son from this terrible fate. He whispered his son's name, hoping to catch a moment of his attention, but Draco remained fixated on Neville. 

Accepting his fate as unimportant in this exchange, he stood stock still in shock. Never in all his days had he imagined anything of this sort befalling his family. His son was doomed to roam Hogwarts for eternity. The pain of knowing that his product—his drug—had caused this tragedy was almost too much to bear.  
  
"You _did_ die, Draco," Neville told him sadly. "I held you in my arms and begged you not to go. But you did. You _died_."  
  
"But I'm here," Draco opened his arms wide, displaying his spectral being. He was garbed in the striking black robes he had been wearing on the eve of his death. "I didn't go anywhere."  
  
"I didn't know," Neville groaned, his head reeling from the onslaught of memories and overwhelming emotions. Draco's presence was both heaven and hell. Neville was ecstatic to be able to speak with him again, but not touching him was driving him mad. He could not understand what was happening. "Why didn't you come find me?"  
  
"I was waiting for you," Draco said strongly, trying desperately to snap Neville out of the fog of insanity that was obviously clouding his mind. "You asked me not to leave. So I stayed. It's what you wanted. How can I be dead if I am here, waiting for you?"  
  
"My god," Neville covered his eyes with the heel of his palms to escape the horror of this reality. He vaguely remembered the moments after Draco's death; being curled around his blond head, begging the lifeless form to wake up and remain with him. "I trapped you here."

"My sons," Lucius rasped, taking a step toward the pair. "This tragedy was the doing of only one person—"

"I remember crying," Draco said suddenly, ignoring his father's interruption. "I was so sad. But I didn't know why. I thought it was a dream."  
  
Neville shook his head, unable to stand the thought that his Draco had been crying for him. It dawned on him that he had heard the late night groans and wails that seemed to follow him throughout the dungeons; but he had never dreamt that they were real. "I was sad, too."  
  
"But you didn't come back."  
  
"Had I known, Dragon," Neville opened his eyes and stepped forward, his arms reaching for the Draco he could never touch. "I wouldn't have left this room for a moment."  
  
"You said I died," Draco said slowly, trying to understand the situation as it surely was. "What about you? You didn't die?"  
  
"No," Neville's voice was ragged from his tears. He was ashamed to be alive. He regretted not putting poison to his lips as soon as Draco's body was carried from the dungeons, draped in a shroud. "I lived—if you can call it that. I was halfway between life and death. I _wanted_ to die. What is my life without you?"

Pansy muffled a sob. She could not bear seeing the men she loved in so much pain. She longed to feel their arms around her, telling her that everything would be all right; that this was a nightmare that would end soon enough.

"You say you love me, but you left me!" Draco asked Neville abruptly, a touch of accusing anger in his voice. "Will you leave me now?"  
  
"No!" Neville cried fiercely, his hands once again searching for Draco. "I will never leave you. Not ever again."  
  
"Neville," Pansy approached Neville's side warily. "What are you saying? You cannot live here forever."  
  
"He can stay with me," Draco insisted, addressing Pansy for the first time. "This is our room. We can stay here."  
  
Professor Dumbledore entered the room silently with Ginny Weasley trailing behind him. Ginny gasped audibly at the sight of Draco's ghost. The shock of the sight was too much for the girl and she crumpled to the floor in a faint. 

Dumbledore observed the scene with a troubled expression on his face. He had seen a great many oddities at Hogwarts over the years, but the vision of Draco Malfoy as a ghost struck him as a indescribable tragedy.  
  
"School is nearly out," Pansy told Draco, oblivious to the Headmaster and Ginny's entrance. "We finish next week. We must leave Hogwarts."  
  
"Then Draco will come to the Manor with me," Neville proclaimed defensively, making Draco smile. "We were going to go there anyway. We can just—"  
  
"No," Lucius ground out with unrestrained resentment. "Ghosts—" he choked on the word—"cannot simply relocate at will, Neville. Draco will remain here at Hogwarts... possibly in this room. _Forever_."  
  
Lucius turned his face away from his son and heir. He could not bear their desperate, pleading eyes. He had never felt so powerless in his life. Here were the two boys he loved so dearly, asking him to save them, and he could do nothing. He looked at Dumbledore, hoping for an answer from the man he had resented for so long.  
  
"I'm afraid," Professor Dumbledore said somberly. "That Lucius is correct. There is nothing to be done."  
  
"Headmaster," Draco drifted across the room to Dumbledore, the sight of which made Pansy screech in horror and hide behind Neville's shoulders. "There must be a way! You are the most powerful wizard of our time. Surely you can—"  
  
"There is nothing I can do to reverse this situation," the wizened wizard reiterated woefully. "I can, of course, offer Neville a term of employment with our school."  
  
"Me?" Neville laughed stoically. "As a _teacher_?"  
  
Draco turned to join in Neville's self-depreciating laughter. The two boys reached for each other, but when their forms touched, Neville flinched and jumped away; Draco had nearly passed straight through him. Draco's head sagged to his chest as Neville crossed his arms over his chest, shivering from the chill.  
  
"Dumbledore," Lucius croaked, stalking the old wizard with a crazed look in his pale eyes. "You must be able to do something. Some magic that you have learned!"  
  
"You have to help them!" Pansy pleaded, running to the Headmaster and clasping his hands in hers. "You cannot let this happen!"

"Perhaps, Ms. Parkinson," the Headmaster patted Pansy's hand gently and guided her to Ginny's limp form on the floor. "You'd be so kind as to rouse Ms. Weasley."

"Ginny!" the hysterical Slytherin girl threw herself to the floor beside her friend, patting her cheek and calling her name. "Get up. Now is not the time for theatrics!"  
  
As Pansy continued to coax Ginny into consciousness, Professor Dumbledore tried to reason with his former student.  
  
"Neville," Draco ignored the noise behind him. "I'm sorry. I did not mean to—to go—through—"  
  
"Stop it," Neville commanded, tightening his arms over his chest. "Please don't say it. It makes it too real."  
  
"You have to leave me," Draco said with his old characteristic bossiness. His commanding manner faltered at the sound of Neville's fresh sobs, but he was resolved in sending him away in order to live. "You cannot live your life here. There is too much for you—for you to see. And for you to do. And—and you'll go on and find—and find someone who—"  
  
"I can't," Neville gasped, falling to his knees before Draco's spirit. "I can't."  
  
"There is no other way," Draco told him, kneeling beside his lover, wishing that he could lay his hands on his soft brown hair. "Don't you see? You are alive. I am dead. There is nothing—"  
  
"There _is_ something," Neville pushed himself to his feet, his hands frantically searching his robe pockets. "There is one thing left to do."  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"Tell me not to leave you," Neville commanded Draco roughly.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Just _tell_ me," Neville hissed, stomping his foot impatiently. "Say the words."  
  
"Don't leave me," Draco blurted, panic erupting in Draco's soul. He could not do it. He could not send Neville away from him. His body was dead, but his love lived one. "HB, you can't leave me!"  
  
"I won't," Neville smiled as he pulled Draco's cherry wood wand from his robe pocket.  
  
"My wand!" Draco smiled at the sight of his previously forgotten wand. "Why do you have my—?"  
  
Draco's eyes snapped to Neville's face. "No, Neville."  
  
"Tell me to stay."

"No," Draco shook his head wildly. "I won't do it. I won't let you."

"Either way," Neville's lips turned up into a rueful smile. "I'm doing it."  
  
Draco's eyes slid shut, unable to bear the sight. "_Stay_."  
  
"I will stay," Neville's smile widened and pointed Draco's wand at his chest. He whispered the two words that he knew would end his suffering.  
  
As Neville folded onto the floor, he heard the voices of Pansy, Lucius and Dumbledore, still locked in their own separate vignettes; unaware of what was transpiring deeper in the room. He heard Draco frantically begging him not to leave him. He saw the enchanted window slowly fading to twilight.  
  
And then, all was black.


	11. Epilogue

**Epilogue**  
  
Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry stood at the window in his office, watching his students file into the carriages that would take them away from the school for the summer.  
  
One week ago, he had witnessed Neville Longbottom's suicide. He had been, in theory, powerless to prevent the tragedy, and yet his heart was heavy. It was under his care that Neville had come to believe that he was not a Gryffindor at heart. That belief, Dumbledore knew, had inevitably caused his death. Neville Longbottom as a Slytherin? The aging Headmaster had laughed after Neville had broken house. He could have interceded, but he thought that Neville would soon enough renounce Slytherin and return to the House of his father and mother. He should have stopped the boy.  
  
Dumbledore finally came to realize that the Malfoy family had operated a thriving drug chain in the school directly under his nose. He should have known, but he had grown complacent in the year since Lord Voldemort had been defeated. He had assumed that all was well within the walls of his sacred institution. He should have stopped the boys.  
  
Harry Potter, once Professor Dumbledore's prized pupil, had unintentionally killed Draco Malfoy. He knew now that Harry had spent most of the year tormenting Ginny Weasley and controlling his friends with a rage that Dumbledore could not conceive. He had not known at the time. He should have stopped the boy.  
  
He had known that Lucius Malfoy wanted revenge. He knew that he would seek out Harry to make him pay for the deaths of his loved ones. So, e was not surprised when the _Daily Prophet_ printed an article about the untimely death of the wizard who had defeated the Dark Lord. But he should have stopped the boy.  
  
Neville's ghost did not return after his self-imposed death. Draco was, even now, sobbing below in the Slytherin dungeons. He was a tormented soul who had lost so much and now doomed to exist unhappily for an eternity. The damage had been done. The damage could have been prevented. He should have stopped it all.  
  
The Headmaster turned and surveyed his office. The portraits of the former Headmasters and Headmistresses all regarded him in wary silence. He bowed slightly to the images before stooping to pick up the two small satchels at his feet. He was powerless. It was time to leave, at last.

**The End**


End file.
